What wewantto be.
The future of this…whatever it is.
Relationship?
“What if I don’t?” I say at last. “What if I don’t want to?”
“You’ll shut it down, or I will shut it down for you. Don’t underestimate my power, little mouse. Just because I’ve been patient with you so far doesn’t mean I’ll continue to let you scurry around in places you should not be.”
His eyes are serious enough that I believe him. Thereareways to get my site shut down. It’s been hacked before, and kicked off several hosting platforms. And there are people out there who could do a much better job at permanently disabling it.
“Promise me,” he says, his voice low and insistent. “Promise me you’ll shut it down. Say, ‘Yes, Don Castellani.’”
“Yes, Don Castellani,” I croak out.
I’ll find somewhere safer to put it. My members are used to having to migrate from place to place, to burrow deeper into the dark corners of the web.
Alessandro rewards me for my lie with a smile, the same crooked smile that makes me fall for him a little more every time I see it. “Don’t fret,topolino,” he says softly. “It’s for the best. I want you safe. And perhaps the real truth is, I don’t want you drooling over any other,cutercrims.” He leans in to kiss my cheek, but I turn my mouth at the last second, throw my arms around his neck, kiss him with my entiresoul.
The next few minutes pass in a blur. I’m bundled into the back of a dark-windowed, expensive, European car, maybe even the same one Alessandro was driving the night we met, and the driver takes off as Alessandro gives two sharp taps to the side of the car. I can’t get the window down—it’s locked—so I have to twist around and look out the back window to watch as I get further and further away from Alessandro. He watches only for a moment before turning to walk back into the house. I see the guards look at each other after he has, one shrugging—
And then we’re around the first turn in the mile-long driveway, and Redwood Manor is hidden from view.
“Where to, little guy?” the driver asks, his eyes on me in the rearview mirror. It’s Pedretti, the guy who also works security in the house.
“Just drop me out in West Hollywood.”
“Boss said to your door. Give me a street address.”
I give him an address, the first one that comes into my head. From there, I can get an Uber or something.
But something feels so strangely permanent, me leaving like this. Alessandro gave me a number to call when I want to come back, but it’s not his own, it’s Pedretti’s number. I have no way of contacting Alessandro directly, and although I understand his reasoning, understand why he’s suggested this break for a week, I don’t like it.
I’m trying not to tear up, trying to rub at my eyes without Pedretti seeing me, although I’m pretty sure he can hear me sniffing.
The truth is, I have no idea when I’ll see Alessandro again.
* * *
Mom is home when I get there.
I wasn’t counting on that, since it’s early afternoon. She works hard, late most nights, and for a heart-stopping second when I get into the kitchen and see her sitting there, sipping a coffee and leafing through some work papers, I think she might throw her arms around me, declare how worried she’s been, how she sent the cops out looking for me—
“Teddy,” she says with only faint surprise. “You’re home. Did you have fun with your friends?”
My heart decelerates, but I still have to swallow before I reply. “Yeah.” I put my wrists, still bruised from the other night, behind my back, but her eyes are still on her papers.
She gives a huffy sigh and scribbles something in a margin.
“Why are you home?” I blurt out.
She looks up, blinking, as though she’s already forgotten I’m there at all. “It’s Sunday, Teddy. It’ssupposedto be a day of rest.”
“But you’re working,” I point out with a nod at her papers.
Her mouth stretches into a thin line, but she reserves her glare for the documents spread out over the kitchen counter. “I’ll take these into the study, since you’re home.”
“Don’t bother. I need to shower,” I mutter, and make my escape.
