“Found it.Not like there's a lot of places for her to hide something in here.”Carlo stalked to the dresser and snatched a white envelope off it.“Here.You've got five minutes before we leave this hellhole,” he said as he tossed the envelope at me.
2
Stefan
Iimmediately grabbed the envelope in my hand.Eve and Giselle wandered off, whispering to each other as they went through the dresser.
Nick walked up to Carlo.I couldn't hear what he said, but from his clipped tone—it wasn't too friendly.Nick could be a dick.Hell, we all could.
But he was also the most fair.
I looked down at the envelope and saw my name in flowing letters.Francesca's handwriting.
Handwriting that only an artist would have.
I opened it and pulled out the small piece of paper inside.
“Stefan, I'm sorry.I can't do this.Love, Chesca.”
I crumpled up the envelope.And the paper.
Fuck.
Me.
She had left me.
Sonofabitch.
Unfuckingbelieveable.
After all that—she just packs up in the middle of the night and takes right the fuck off.
Nick stopped talking and then Carlo said, “Do what you have to do,” before he stormed out of the apartment.I couldn't say I was sad to see him leave.
Nick strode up to me and stopped, his eyes sharp—not pity-filled like Eve's.Or Giselle's.“You wanna talk about this now?Or later?”He crossed his arms and widened his stance.
“Never,” I answered him flatly.
“Stefan,” Nick said sharply.I looked up at him and he said, “We'll figure this out.All right?”He stared at me with all the confidence in the world.I knew the real meaning behind what he was trying to say.
That everything would be fine.
We'd find Francesca.
And she'd cut out this stupid shit.And just be—mine.
Because she was.
Mine.
Whether she knew that or not.
Francesca Russo belonged to me.And she always would.
3
Francesca
