67. A Touch Annoyed

[LIZZY]

“You know, if he doesn’t want to see you, maybe you should do as he says…” Chiara trails off, as she whispers as low as possible, staring up at the stairs and tapping her foot restlessly against the floor. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who says something and doesn’t mean every word of it.”

I turn to look at her, wondering what the hell took her so long to utter those words after one hell of her silently brooding moment. Her throat bobs as she swallows, her arms quickly wrapping around herself.

“It’s because he does.” I say, as a matter of fact, shrugging. It’s hard to imagine Vector being crafty with his words. The man has always been way too serious to indulge in fucking with someone’s head. Always a straight shooter. Through and through.

“What?” She whisper-snaps, as if no clue what I’m talking about, as if lost track of the conversation. Well, if that’s not weird enough.

I roll my eyes. “He does mean what he says. He would rather kill himself than joke about something.”