I want to slap his handsome face and then storm off into a life where I’m better off without him. Except there’s one small problem with that fantasy. I can’t help but think that we could have been good together. That despite our differences and the fact that his world is entirely opposite from everything I’ve ever known, we could have given a relationship a shot.
The other part of me is wallowing in abject humiliation. She wants to curl up into the fetal position and not emerge until herplane touches down in the next city. So I settle for resting my head against the cool glass of the SUV’s window, watching the highway get blurred through my tears.
“You okay?” Rocco asks me from the driver’s seat as he glides the car in and out of traffic.
“I’m fine,” I tell him miserably before another wave of tears hits.
I’m so not fine. I don’t know if thereisa fine after Alessio. Being with him tore me apart and then rearranged me. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to being the me I was before him. I still have my things, and on the outside, I look the same. But on the inside, I’m like a satellite image of a town after a tornado hit. Nothing but rubble.
Speaking of my things, it occurs to me that I still don’t have my phone. I’ve been operating without it for a few days, and it’s been strangely nice to hit the mute button on the cacophony of the outside world. No social media, no doomscrolling. I didn’t even miss it.
“Does anyone happen to have my phone?” I ask with a sniffle, knowing I’ll need it later, like it or not. “Or a tissue?”
My nose is stuffy from crying, and I’m annoyed with myself for not thinking about my phone earlier. There’s a guard named Giovanni sitting next to me in the back seat and another in the front passenger seat called Santino. I’ve never met either of them before, but I assume they’re trusted men, considering the undercover way I was bundled up and out of the safe house. You’d have thought I was a state secret instead of the unwanted hookup of a Mafia kingpin.
He didn’t even fight for me.
Alessio just let me go.
Santino rummages around up front and then extends his hand back toward me, a travel-size pack of tissues resting on his palm. “Here you go, kid. Keep them for the trip.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m not a kid, even if I may be a good twenty years younger than him. But I’m grateful for the tissues, and I’ll probably never see him again after I get out of this car, so I keep my mouth shut about that and take the tissues.
“Thank you.”
“Your phone is in the back with your luggage,” Rocco tells me. “You can have it when we get to the airport.”
“Why not now?” I grumble.
“Boss’s orders.”
I want to ask him which boss he’s talking about. Alessio? Priest? If I’m officially out of the picture and no longer in hiding, then it stands to reason that I should be able to resume my digital footprint like practically every other person on this planet.
Now that I’m thinking about it, I really want my phone. I’m not even sure why. I’m too upset to look at it right now. Maybe it’s just to thumb my nose at Alessio. To break his rules and do what I want. A small fuck-you since I can’t give him a real one thanks to his decision to ship me out of town like a dirty secret.
“I really, really need my phone,” I try again, using my nicest wheedling voice. “Please?”
“Sorry.” Rocco shakes his head, impervious to my pleas. “It’ll have to wait.”
We head off the highway, and I see a sign for a gas station. “You know what won’t wait, though? My bladder. I need to take a pee break.”
“You can use the restroom at the airport,” Rocco tells me.
Of course I can, but I want my phone. I want to message Alessio and tell him what I think of him.That’swhat I want to do.
“How far is the airport?” I ask.
“About ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Oh my gosh.” I shift in my seat like a five-year-old on a road trip who’s about to wet her pants. “I can’t wait that long.”
“Yes, you can,” he snaps, sounding irritated.
“It’s your seats.” I shrug. “Guess you don’t mind the mess.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, suddenly shifting lanes and turning at a traffic light. “I’ll take you to the fucking gas station. Get in the restroom and back out in under five minutes, or I’ll come in there to get you. Got it?”
I smile at him in the rearview. “Got it.”
