I stepped out of the apartment while he looked around. It didn’t take him long to find no one.
“All clear,” he said, stepping out the apartment. “If—”
The words died in his throat as Cilla seemed to come out of nowhere, breathing heavy, her keys in her trembling hands.
“Whoa,” the guard said, stopping her before she could crash into the wall from going too fast. She was like a freight train putting on the brakes at the last second.
She yanked out of his hold and looked me. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she yelled.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I didn’t hear it ring. I was sleeping.”
She looked between the guard and me. He grinned at her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She sounded like she was trying to calm her panic but couldn’t do it. “Go back to work before you get sent home in a pine box,” she said to the guard, sending him on his way.
She closed the door behind him, sliding down it right after she did.
“What are you thinking?” I said. “He came because—”
“I know it wasn’t that!” she said, still trying to catch her breath. “Shit. I took the steps up. Didn’t want to wait for the elevator. I have a cramp in my side. Just get your phone.”
I left her to get my phone. It was full of calls from Cilla and an unknown number. I would have answered them, but my ringer had been turned off.
I hadn’t done that either.
* * *
I keptmy mace out as I walked to my car. I could have asked one of the guards to walk me, but I didn’t want to call twice in the same night. I was pretty sure the guard who had come up earlier thought we were fun and would have been the one to answer the request.
Each designated parking spot had a light on it, making the garage dim. I opened my car right before I got to it, prepared to hurry in and lock the doors once I shut the door behind me.
I was running late for my shift, so there was no one else around. The girls who took their cars mostly left together. So did the ones taking the shuttle bus.
“Rosalia.”
Even though the voice was familiar, it scared the shit out of me. I yelped, holding my mace out, but it wouldn’t have done much good. He’d come up from behind and put his arms around me. He held me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.
“Aniello,” I barely got out, part from the scare, part from his hold, and part from relief that he was with me. I wilted into him, all the air expelled from my lungs, all the energy drained from my body.
Dying in his arms would be so easy, so peaceful. Like the statue in the Hamartia Garden.
“Rosalia,” he said in my ear, his voice warm and his breath cool. His voice was deep, full of passion, and making goosebumps appear on my arms like magic. Especially when he said my name like that, like he had just stepped off Italian soil.
He pulled me in even tighter, breathed in deep the scent of my hair, and then started walking me to the opposite side of the car. He opened my door and I slid in. He took the driver’s seat.
We sat there so long that some of the lights started to turn off. They were motion activated, but a few stayed on for the entire night. The garage just became dimmer.
“Someone was in my condo,” I whispered. “They did things—let Bambina out, turned my fan on, and turned my ringer off. They left me a rose. Like the ones you leave me.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. All I had was the profile of his face in the dimness.
“Do you know who it was?”
He nodded again. “My Boss.”
“The man who brought you in.”
“And will try to take me out,” he said.
