FORTY-EIGHT.

“Mi dispiace, Farfalla. But I can't share that information with you.” He says in a protective tone.

I sigh, “I didn't think you would.”

Which I didn't, it's not like I was holding my breath or anything.

I totally was.

“It's safer this way.”

“And what makes you believe that? Now I'm going to be a jittery mess, forever looking over my shoulder like some crazy, paranoid woman.” I groan.

“At least you'll be more aware of your surroundings.” He rubs his hands up and down my arms, sending waves of tingles down my body.

“Can I at least have a gun?” I ask him anxiously, hoping he will say yes.

Instead, he chuckles, “Uh, no.” He replies as if I've just asked him to marry me.

He didn't bother to give my request a moment's thought.

“And why not? I can’t rely on you and your henchmen to watch over me all the time” I ask with irritation slowly seeping into my veins.

“It's not about why you cannot have one, Ivy.” He becomes serious as his eyes penetrate mine with ferocious intensity. “It's a