“You’re in a great mood today,” he remarked.
“Drive,” I muttered.
He did.
Silence settled between us for a few minutes.Calm.Bearable.Then he asked the question I didn’t want to answer.
“So,” he started, eyes on the road, “want to tell me why you keep running back to Tuscany on your own?”
“No.”
“Want to tell me why you look like you haven’t slept in twenty-four hours?”
“No.”
“Want to tell me why Marcello sounded like he was two seconds from tearing the entire city apart trying to track you down before he realised you took the jet and left…again?”
I turned my head slowly and gave him the kind of look that told him I was done humoring him.
He just nodded, satisfied.“Thought so.”
We drove on.
The anger drained first.Then the noise in my head quieted.
What remained was her.
Hazel eyes.Steady hands.A girl who should’ve died twice and refused both times.
She wasn’t fragile or harmless.She was the kind of problem that kept a Don awake at night.
And she was the only thing on my mind.
17
Neve
It was settled.I was moving in with Zelda.
The decision landed with a strange mix of relief and dread, like stepping off a cliff and hoping the wind remembered how to catch you.She was chaos and incense and intense opinions, and I knew that living with her was either going to save me or set me on fire.
And stupidly, stupidly, my first thought was that maybe, being in such close quarters, I could finally nudge her toward giving Paolo a real chance.The man practically worshipped the ground she stomped on with her heeled boots.
Then again… this was Zelda.She didn’t budge for anyone.Not fate, not men, not even the universe when it begged.So maybe I was dreaming.Or maybe I just wanted to believe she deserved a happy ending.
I started packing the second I got home.
My hands moved quickly, as though if I kept them moving, my brain wouldn’t have room to replay the alley.I pulled open drawers, yanked clothes from hangers, folded them only enough to make them fit into my battered suitcase.What little I owned didn’t take long—a few pairs of jeans, a handful of shirts, worn-out sneakers, my jacket, the book I’d been carrying around for three cities because it felt too personal to leave behind.
The things I would need in the few days it would take me to give notice at the restaurant and move everything to Zelda’s place stayed where they were.The rest went into the bag.Quick.Efficient.Like I was preparing to run without ever looking back.
The house was quiet while I worked, a hollow, empty stillness that made me feel like the walls were watching me breathe.The late-afternoon light slanted through the thin curtains, dust motes drifting lazily through the air.Somewhere down the street a dog barked.A car passed.They were normal sounds.Safe sounds.
I told myself that meant I was safe.
I zipped the suitcase halfway and knelt to shove a pair of shoes inside when I heard it.
Not the usual settling of the house.It was nothing like the soft groan of old wood expanding in the heat.It wasn’t the pipes or the roof or any of the familiar noises I’d learned to ignore.