Collected.
Mask of indifference on his face.
“Bene?” he said to me. His hands were sans gloves.
“Bene,” I whispered.
He held out his hand and I gave him the gun back. He set it back in the glove compartment and then shut it.
Cilla took a deep breath from the back seat, releasing it in a slow puff, like she was inhaling and exhaling a drug. I caught the look on her face as she did. Satisfied.
It was obvious then why Aniello sometimes called her LM.
Little Monster.
Remembering what she’d told me she smelled on him many times…I knew then. She liked the smell of blood, depending on her mood.
I still smelled citrus.
I guess like some people smelled ashes after the burn, and others only the toasty smell of keeping warm.
16
Rosalia
Aniello took us to a high-rise building in Manhattan after the strip club.
He parked and took our bags, then directed us to a spot where Bambina could do her business. The entire time I walked her, he watched the both of us like we might disappear. Cilla even looked between the two of us and then raised her eyebrows at me as the elevator brought us to the top floor.
I shivered as we entered through the penthouse’s door. The temperature was close to freezing, and the entire place felt sterile. Chrome finishings blended with a gray and black theme throughout. The warmest thing about it was the view, the sun just rising over Manhattan, but I wasn’t sure if “warm” was even the correct way to describe it.
It was busy, full of life, in that way that New York has of reminding the world who’s boss, but the feel of the condo compared to what was happening outside felt stark in comparison—life existed out there; it almost felt barren in here.
My eyes followed Aniello, who was walking toward what I assumed were the bedrooms with our bags. The world would probably see this as his place, as cold as it was, but when I thought of him, of the time we had been spending together, warmth came to mind. Like lemons, that perfect citrus note, and musk in a Sicilian garden.
Bambina danced around my feet, finding me after sniffing the entire place, and then headed toward the kitchen. I heard her lapping water. After walking over to investigate, I realized Aniello had filled two bowls. One with water and one with food.
I wondered if the accident had caused more trauma to my brain than the doctors had realized, or if he was just so quiet that he moved like a ghost. I hadn’t even realized he had come back from dropping our bags.
“I’ve been here before?” I said.
“Sì,” he said. “Without the dog.”
Of course, I didn’t have her then, but I had wanted her, or I wouldn’t have put my name in.
Our eyes met from across the counter, and after a second, he moved past me, sliding a hand around my side as he did. He took my hand and led me down the hall and to the room where my bag was.
The bedroom was an echo of the rest of the place. It was cold and hard, except for two things that stood out to me. A plush grey blanket on the bed and the fan whirring in the corner.
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep warm, and nodded toward it. “I don’t think I’ll be needing that. It’s so cold in here.”
He came to stand beside me. “You and LM make yourselves at home. Get something to eat. Get some rest. Do whatever you want to do.” He placed a soft kiss on the edge of my lips, almost in the corner, that made me shiver. Then he went to leave.
I whirled around. “You’re leaving?”
“Work.”
“But you haven’t slept much either.”
