He kept going, tireless, his body strong and powerful on top of me. I held on to him, breathless, looking for that dizzying thrill.

Yes, love me, Alessandro. Love me.

He thrust deep. The pressure inside me peaked and broke. I grabbed on to him and lost myself to an orgasm so intense, it was almost blinding.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me, whispering things in my ear in a flurry of Italian. “Ti amo . . .”

“I love you,” I breathed into his ear.

He crushed me to him. I kissed him, shifting my hips, asking for more. He started again, building to a hard, fast rhythm. I gave all of myself to him. Every breath, every gasp, every whimper, all of my heart . . .

His whole body went tight and rigid. I met him again and again, delirious from happiness and need.

A shudder gripped him, and he came with a low groan. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his face, brushing my lips against his skin.

Slowly he withdrew. His eyes were still wild. He slid next me, pulled the blanket over us, and wrapped his arms around me under it. I snuggled close to him, breathless and completely content, my cheek on his chest.

Around us the magic twisted and wound, dancing to the tune only it heard.

Chapter 15

I was floating in the soft happy place between sleeping and being awake when Alessandro moved next to me. I dragged my eyes open. The roof was empty. The light glowed with soft yellow against the night sky.

“What is it?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe. Go back to sleep.”

I shifted, my head on his arm, and shut my eyes.

My phone rang.

Alessandro swore under his breath.

I groaned and rolled onto my stomach, looking for the phone on the floor with my hand. My fingers finally found it. I pulled it up and peered at it. Bug. I swiped to answer.

“Tell that cockalorum he owes me a new drone.”

I raised my head. Remnants of a drone sagged off the stone rail. A huge knife thrust out of the metal and plastic mess. I glanced at Alessandro. He shrugged.

“Why are you flying drones over our territory?”

“I was doing a security sweep. How was I supposed to know the two of you decided to sleep naked on the roof?”

“You are not supposed to do security sweeps over our territory. We’ve talked about this. Patricia is handling the surveillance. She’s got this.”

“Catalina . . .”

“Privacy, Bug!”

I hung up. Alessandro sighed, slipped off the couch, gloriously naked, walked over to the crippled drone, and tossed it off the roof.

The phone told me it was 10:39 p.m. We must’ve barely dozed off.

I rummaged through the pile of clothes, looking for my underwear. Alessandro pulled on his pants. I finally found the white scrap of fabric, put it on, and looked for my bra. He was holding it. I reached for it and Alessandro pulled it out of the way.

“Really?” I reached for the bra again, and he moved it back.

I stepped closer. Alessandro pounced. One moment I was on my feet and the next we were back on the couch, tangled up in the blanket, the bundle of my clothes in his hands.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Don’t go.”

“I have to go. If I don’t go, Patricia and Bug will fight. There will be hurt feelings.”

“They’ll sort it out.”

“We have to get dressed anyway. He never sends just one drone.”

Alessandro wrapped his arms around me. “Screw him. Stay here with me.”

I gave up. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything anyway. I just wanted to lie with him on this couch and drift off to sleep.

“Give me my clothes back and I’ll stay.”

He pretended to think it over and handed me my shirt.

“That’s it?”

“Yes. Shirt and panties, that’s all.”

I slipped my blouse on. “So you’re okay with my butt barely covered by underwear splashed all over nine screens in Bug’s situation room?”

“You have a blanket.”

“And my bra?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“What are you, fifteen?”

“No, that’s crazy. More like eleven. Maybe twelve.”

I opened my mouth to reply.

Nevada screamed.

I jumped to the rail. In the window Grandma Frida sprawled on the floor of the motor pool on her back, Nevada on her knees beside her. Oh no.

Alessandro leaped over the rail. Magic flashed with orange around him and he landed on the street like it was nothing and ran into the motor pool.

“What’s happening?” I yelled.

“Poisoned!” Nevada screamed back.

The word scorched me. I whipped around and sprinted to the door and down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Not Grandma Frida. No, no, no . . .

I hit the third-floor door with both hands, throwing it open, and charged down the hallway. Bern’s door loomed in front of me. I pounded on it with my fist. “Runa! Runa!”

Nobody answered.

“Runa!”

The door swung open and Bern blocked my way, naked except for boxer shorts. “She isn’t . . .”

“Grandma Frida’s been poisoned!”

The clump of blankets on Bern’s bed exploded and Runa jumped out, in a tank top and underwear, her red hair sticking out of her head in all directions. “Where?”

“Motor pool.”

We sprinted through the hallway and down the stairs, out of the building, across the street, and into the motor pool. Grandma Frida lay unmoving. Alessandro bent over her, doing chest compressions. Her skin was grey, like old parchment. Oh God.

Runa dropped to her knees and grabbed Grandma’s hand. A green glow streamed out of her, wrapping around the two of them. Runa jerked Grandma’s sleeve back and licked her wrist. “Batrachotoxin derivative with a synthetic additive. I’ve got this. Keep doing CPR.”

Magic poured out of Runa. Nothing changed. Alessandro kept pumping Grandma’s chest.

A moment crawled by.

Another.

No. Just no. Not Grandma Frida. No more hugs. No more funny jokes as her eyes sparkled. No more teasing Mom, no more making me eat, no more smell of engine grease . . .

I wanted to do something, to scream, to punch, to help somehow, but there was nothing I could do. I just stood there and stared. The look on Nevada’s face tore me apart.

The door banged open behind us and Mom and Arabella ran into the motor pool. Mom didn’t say anything. She just stopped, looking as if she had been punched.

Leon burst in from the back. “What . . . ?”

Grandma Frida wasn’t moving. I couldn’t even tell if she was still alive.

I clamped my hands over my mouth and paced back and forth. I couldn’t stay still anymore.

Seconds ticked by. A count started in my head on its own. One, two, three . . .

Fifteen, sixteen . . . twenty.

I’d killed my grandmother. I should have moved us to a location we could secure, but I kept waiting for the right property. It was my fault.

Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four . . .

Fifty-five . . .

The green glow around Runa dimmed. “Mrs. Afram,” Runa said, her voice chiding. “You should tell him to stop.”

Grandma Frida opened her eyes and looked at Alessandro.

Alive. All the strength went out of me. I crouched and clamped my hands together into a single fist.

Alessandro raised his hands in the air.

“Everybody is mean to him,” Grandma croaked. “I wanted him to feel he was helping.”

Mom cursed and slumped forward. Arabella buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Nevada turned white as a sheet. Leon stared at Grandma, then at Runa, wild-eyed.

Runa landed on her butt and hung her head back. Bern crouched by her, his hands around her shoulders, murmuring something.

Runa nodded. “No, no, I’m okay. I just need a minute. Nasty stuff.”

Grandma Frida squinted at Runa, then at me. “Somebody help me up.”

Alessandro gently sat her up.

“What happened?” Mom growled.

“A spider bit me.” Grandma shook her head.

“What spider?” Arabella asked.

“A metal spider.”

“Where did it go?” Mom demanded.

“I don’t know, Penelope. I hit it with the wrench, it bit my wrist, and I passed out.”

There was a chance it was still here. I spun around scanning the floor. “How big was it?”

“Three inches across,” Grandma said. “A fat little bugger.”

Bern picked Runa up off the floor and looked around. All of us stared in different directions.

Nevada’s gaze locked on something to the right and above us. “Got you, you fucker.”

A toolbox streaked off the side table and smashed into the wall near the ceiling. An eight-legged shape skittered across the wall. The toolbox had missed it by a hair.

What the hell?

The metal spider dashed along the wall toward the exit.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Nevada snarled, punching her palm.

The toolbox chased the metal bug, thudding into the wall in rhythm with Nevada’s fist.

“Intact!” I yelled. “We need it—”

The toolbox crushed the spider.

“—in one piece.” Too late.

A tall man strode up and loomed in the open bay. He was huge, dark haired, and built like he snapped people in half every day. Nevada pivoted to him. The toolbox and what was left of the spider slid off the wall, hurtled through the air in the direction of her gaze, and froze a foot from the man’s face.