Enzo walks past me to open the door. I don't turn around, but I hear the voice of a man. He's breathing hard and most of what he says is unclear. "Slow down, Marco. Repeat that.""There are some Antonioni boys starting fights at Lorenzo's bar," he finally says. "He asks for your help.""I'll be there," Alessandro says. "Wait by the car."He closes the door and grabs the key from the table. "There's been enough trouble tonight. I'll lock you in because I don't want any more of it." He looks my way, undoubtedly expecting a response. When he doesn't get one, he takes a hold of my face. His fingers dig into my skin. "I'm warning you, girl. If you dare do anything that displeases me, you're dead." He examines my face for a solid moment. He's much taller than me, so he stares down at me in a very degrading manner. I hate the way it makes me feel small and beneath him. I try to free my face from his grip, but he holds on tighter. "Don't try anything stupid, Chiara. You won't get away with
"I'm not sleeping on your bed!" How dare he presume I would? As if I would ever share a bed with a criminal. He looks at me as if I'm insane. It makes me feel self-conscious against my will. "On my bed? What makes you think that?" "You just pointed at it," I explain. "You said I'll have to sleep in here.""In here, yes. But I didn't mean my bed," he says and stands to his full height. I feel so small next to him. It's one of the most infuriating feelings ever. "I meant what's underneath it." He lowers to the floor and sticks his hand beneath his bed. He pulls out a thin mattress. I stare at it in shock. He expects me to sleep on this old, thin, dirty mattress? This is what he meant? I scoff. "You must be joking." This is preposterous. There's no reason why I should sleep in this. He said there's no use in escaping, he knows everyone around here. So why this? It's not like I'll run away in the middle of the night. I'm not stupid. I know I'll get caught. "No," he shakes his head, em
The crash is so loud that my eardrums ring. It's so disorienting that I forget where I am for a moment. I'm stuck to the mattress, even though all of my instincts are screaming at me to get up. Whatever that sound was definitely came from downstairs. I find the nerve to stand despite my crippling fear. I reach the door and press my ear to it. I don't hear a sound. I open the door and when it creaks, my heart drops. I wait a few seconds more before taking another step. The smell of smoke immediately hits me and I wave my hand around my face. There's smoke everywhere. Something is on fire. I rush down the stairs and I see shards of glass on the floor. The curtains are on fire. I go to the kitchen and find a bucket. It isn't as big as I hoped it would be, but I waste no time filling it with tap water. I need to fill the bucket twice before the fire is out. It's a good thing I decided to get up. Who knew happened if I had stayed in the bedroom? The house would've burned down and I'd d
She places a hand on her hip and glares at me. “Answer me, bitch.""Stop this now, Flavia. This is Enzo's business and you shouldn't get involved. Back off." Marco tries to take her arm, but she slaps him. So this is Flavia, Enzo's girlfriend. I remember Fabrizio telling me about her and I don't usually forget names. She's beautiful. Long black hair, light brown eyes. Her brows are perfectly arched and her skin is perfectly sun-kissed. Her lips are coated in gloss. She's looking at me as if she wants to kill me. I don't doubt that for a second. She's intimately involved with a criminal, so that very well makes her one. Criminals are capable of anything. "Get your hands off me, mongrel," she growls. Marco backs off and returns to my side. He makes a terrified face. It's like he's scared of her or something. Ginevra raises her arms. Adelina scurries away. "I don't want any trouble!" "If you had kept your old trap shut, there wouldn't be," Marco retorts. "Who is this woman?" Flavia
Flavia calls his name again. There's no point in hiding. She knows he's in here, probably saw him come in. And she knows I'm here, too. She was probably standing there the entire time, hoping to hear something. I don't know how thick these doors are. How much has she heard? I can tell he's thinking the same thing. He gives me one long look before opening the door. Flavia is standing in the doorway, wearing the same yellow dress, and already her eyes are narrowed to slits. She glowers. "Should I be concerned?" I suppress the urge to scoff. Her behavior is pitiful. I would never put myself in such a sad position. Her insecurity is out in the open for all to see. All because of a man. Enzo isn't all that. She puts him on an altar for no good reason. I've only been in her presence for a handful of minutes and I'm sick of her already. "She's an associate, Flavia. Go back to the room." "What kind of associate?" she raises her voice. I look back and forth between both of them. Frankly,
Enzo is waiting downstairs for me like he's my prom date. The scene is so ludicrous I could laugh. He's smoking a cigarette and fixes his eyes on me. He's eyeing me critically, looking for any flaws in my appearance. I've lost some weight, but the dress fits me well enough. There were heels at the bottom of the bag. He thought of everything, well, almost everything. A clutch would do wonders for this outfit. All I had to do was tie my hair in a low bun and pinch my cheeks. I don't have any makeup, so there's not much I can do. The dress is flowy and long. It's made of silk and chiffon, with sheer puffed long sleeves. My back is exposed. I've never owned a dress like this. I look like a different person in it. It must have cost a fortune. I fake bow. "Does my appearance please you?" He blows out smoke in my face. "We'll see."Once we're outside, there's a car waiting for us. It isn't like the usual cars, this car is fancy. Black and sleek. A limousine. I've never seen one up close
Whoever is out there knocks again.At this point, my heart's in my throat and my skin is crawling. The house is so silent that all I can hear is my erratic breathing. Enzo told me not to open the door for anyone, so I don't move. Yet the knocks are persistent. I think of the men he killed right in the living room. What if someone like them is out there, wanting to get in? My anxiety doubles.After a while, the knocking stops. I stay alert to hear any other noise, but there's absolutely silence. I sink into the mattress and take steady breaths. Now that the danger has passed, I contemplate sleep, but there's a lot on my mind. I don't understand Giotto's motives. Why would he want me there in the first place? I'm now convinced that I was probably being paranoid. No one knew who I was. I assumed he would make a public announcement or something of that nature, but as far as I know, nothing happened.So why was I there? Why was my presence necessary? After a few minutes, my mattress move
"I know you're listening," he says again. "There's no point in trying to hide."Dammit. I try to creep back into the room. I take one step and the entire house creaks. I'm so close to the door. If I could only get in there and act as if I've never heard this conversation, it would be much better. If he asked the cleaning lady to send me upstairs, then I should've never heard this. For a good reason, because a lot of it involved me. "Don't make me go up there and get you." There's an unmistakable finality in his tone. He's very well capable of dragging me downstairs and I want to avoid that at all costs. I promised myself that he would never again have the pleasure of manhandling me. I sigh. I've been caught. There's no denying it. He knows I was listening and there are only so many places I can hide. I straighten up and start descending the stairs. He's standing in the middle of the living room with a tumbler in hand. The top buttons of his shirt are undone and his hair is dishevele