11: The Return

Of course, I knew someday I’d have to go back to my former life, but I didn’t expect it to be so sudden. We’d planned to stay for another week in Italy, when Armani excused himself from lunch to take a phone call and returned with an expression on his face I could only describe as frustrated.

His father needed him back home for business, so all I could do was faintly smile, finish my lunch alone and go back to a packed-up house. Armani was already on the driveway looking down at his phone, the convertible’s trunk left open to display most of the belongings we’d come with. He glanced up as he heard Bill’s car but didn’t make a move toward us. I took the moment to look to the side at the bodyguard who’d refused to leave my side out of the house.

Bill pulled up the handbrake and reached for the door, but I quickly said, “Bill? Are you c-coming with us?”

He glanced back at me, hesitation written over his face. I’d never seen him less than happy, though something about this country bro