The Villa

adjoining bath. "If you try to make me, I'll cry and go very female and make you feel horrible. Believe me, I'm ready to make someone feel horrible, and you're in the line of fire. Don't use my good washcloths. There're some everyday ones in the linen closet, and antiseptic and aspirin."
    "Shut up, Sophie."
    She tugged the blanket higher. "It's cold in here."
    He came back in carrying her Murano glass bowl, one of her best guest towels, already wet slopping inside, and a glass of water.
    "What did you do with the potpourri that was in that dish?"
    "Don't worry about it. Come on, let's play doctor."
    "Aspirin. I'm begging you."
    He pulled a bottle out of his pocket, opened it and shook out two.
    "Please, let's not be stingy. I want four."
    He let her take them and began cleaning the head wound. It took effort to keep his hands steady, to draw breath smoothly. "Who pushed you?"
    "I don't know. I'd come down looking for Gina. She and Don had a fight."
    "Yeah, I heard about it."
    "I couldn't find her, came in here. I wanted a minute to myself, and some air, so I went out on the terrace. I heard something behind me, started to turn around. The next thing I know I'm skidding—couldn't catch my balance. Then lights out. How bad's my face?"
    "Nothing bad about your face. That's part of your problem. You're going to have a knot up here, right along the hairline. Cut's not deep, just a good-sized shallow scrape. You have any impression who pushed you? Man? Woman?"
    "No. It was fast, and it was dark. I guess it might have been Gina, or Don for that matter. They were both furious with me. That's what happens when you get in the middle."
    "If it was either of them, they're going to look a whole lot worse than you before I'm finished."
    The quick little leap of her heart made her feel foolish. And went a long way to cooling her own bubbling temper. "My hero. But I don't know if it was either of them. Could just as easily have been someone who'd come in to poke around in my room, then gave me a shove so I wouldn't catch them."
    "We'll take a look around, see if anything's missing or messed with. Hold your breath."
    "What?"
    "Hold your breath," he repeated, then watched her face contort in pain as he used the peroxide he'd had in his other pocket.
    "Festa di cazzo! Coglioni! Mostro!"
    "A minute ago I was a hero." Sympathetically, he blew on the sting. "Better in a minute. Let's deal with the rest."
    "Va via."
    "Would you mind cursing at me in English?"
    "I said go away. Don't touch me."
    "Come on, be a big, brave girl. I'll give you a lollipop after." He yanked the blanket aside, dealt quickly, ruthlessly with the other scrapes.
    "I'm going to put this gunk on them." He pulled out a tube of antiseptic cream. "Bandage them up. How's your vision?"
    Her breath was puffing from the exertion of trying to fight him off, and he wasn't even winded. It killed her. "I can see you well enough, you sadist. You're enjoying this."
    "It does have certain side benefits. Name the first five presidents of the United States."
    "Sneezy, Dopey, Moe, Larry and Curly."
    Christ, was it any wonder he'd fallen for her? "Close enough. Probably don't have a concussion. There you go, baby." He kissed her sulking lips gently. "All done."
    "I want my lollipop."
    "You bet." But he just leaned down, held on. "Scared me," he murmured against her cheek. "Scared hell out of me, Sophie."
    Hearing that, knowing that, had her heart making that same little leap. "It's okay now. You're not really a bastard."
    "Still hurting?"
    "No."
    "How do you say 'liar' in Italian?"
    "Never mind. It feels better when you're holding me. Thanks."
    "No charge. Where do you keep your glittery things?"
    "Jewelry? Costume is in the jewelry armoire, the real things are in my safe. You think I surprised a thief?"
    "Easy enough to find out." He sat up, then rose to turn on the rest of the lights.
    They saw it at the same time. Despite the lingering pain, Sophia shot straight out of bed. There was as much anger as terror in her belly as she read the message, scrawled in red, on her mirror.
    BITCH #3
    "Kris. Damn it, that's her style. If she thinks I'm going to let her get away with…" She trailed off as terror overwhelmed every other feeling. "Number three. Mama. Nonna."
    "Put something on," Tyler ordered. "And lock the doors. I'll check it out."
    "No, you won't." She was already marching to her closet. "We'll check it out. Nobody pushes me around," she said as she dragged on a sweater and