“I’m Dennis, Nora’s cousin. I know exactly who you are, and Nora is not going anywhere with you.”
I watch Andreas’s face tighten, a clear sign he isn’t happy about me telling Dennis about yesterday. Not. My. Problem.
“I understand your concern and even appreciate it, but I have no bad intentions. I’m taking Nora home safely.” Andreas’s tone is softer now, but his conviction hasn’t wavered.
“It’s not about the taking her home. It’s what you do afterward, asshole.” Dennis is ready to defend my honor with his fists, and I only love him more for it, but I’m sure Andreas would win anyway, and I don’t feel like waiting to be proven right.
“It’s fine, Dennis, Andreas is taking me home. I’ll text you when I’m there, okay?”
Dennis’s eyes widen as he pulls me aside, his concern evident.
“Are you sure about this, Nora? I mean, after what he did to you? Is that really wise?” His voice is gentle, but his worry is palpable.
“I trust him enough to know he wouldn’t hurt me, and I actually want the chance to hear why he did what he did yesterday. It’s my choice, Dennis. I’m old enough to make it myself.” Dennis curses under his breath, realizing I’ve made up my mind.
“Send me a selfie when you’re home. Not just a text. If I don’t hear from you in half an hour, I’m sending the police after you, okay?”
“I will, but the police won’t be necessary. I’m really not afraid of him.” At least not when it comes to my physical safety.
Dennis nods reluctantly toward Andreas, giving him the go-ahead to take me home. I see the warning in Dennis’s eyes, and I feel so lucky to have him in my life. I kiss him on the cheek and hug him tightly before walking with Andreas toward the exit. I hope I’m making the right decision as Andreas’s hand burns in my back as we walk.
Once outside, a car with a driver is waiting for us. Andreas opens the door for me, and I try to get into the car as gracefully as possible. That’s not easy after a night of cocktails. It’s not exactly elegant, but I manage to get in the car, slide over and buckle up. Andreas does the same, giving the chauffeur my address.
“How do you know those people, Nora?”
I’m startled by his stern tone. He doesn’t look at me, his expression exhausted and annoyed.
“I don’t know them. Dennis knows Peter from work, and he knows Isa and Noah. I’d never seen them before tonight,” I say honestly.
“That’s good.” He’s genuinely relieved, though I don’t understand why.
“Why is that good? Who are they?” I ask, intrigued.
“They’re junkies, they were high as a kite. You don’t want to know them, Nora, really.” Oh.
I replay the events and conversations of the evening in light of this new information. It makes sense now, why Isa was so focused on the "buzz" and Noah’s overly touchy behavior. I stare out the window, quiet. Suddenly, a new question pops into my head.
“What were you doing at the club?” I ask, turning to look at him.
He hesitates before meeting my gaze, our eyes locking.
“I came to get you,” he says.
Oh.
“How did you know I was there?”
“Because I’m a co-owner of the club. Isa is on the blacklist. She’s not allowed in. We’ve only just opened. Security has a list of photos of people who aren’t allowed in, but in practice, it’s not always easy to recognize them right away. I was sent the video footage to confirm if it was her. I saw her, and… I saw you. You know the rest of the story.” His explanation sounds plausible. But there’s still one crucial question left.
“Who is Isabella to you? What does she mean to you?” I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Isabella means nothing to me. I wish I’d never met her. She can drop dead for all I care.” Even for someone as blunt as Andreas, his words sound particularly harsh.
He stares stoically ahead again, his face not betraying a single emotion. The hatred he holds toward Isabella runs deep. I decide not to push any further. In a way, this is what I wanted to hear most.
We arrive at my house and get out. Andreas walks me to the door, looking concerned. Aside from a bit of wobbling, I manage to make it there fairly independently. Once at the door, I turn around and look him in the eyes.
“Why do you care that I was there? I don’t get it?” I really don’t, not after yesterday morning.
