Why do you think he’s following you?
Because he followed me out of the coffee shop, and now he’s waiting for me outside the tourist trap store I stepped into.
Shit. Send me a pin with your location.
Fingers fumbling, I do as he asks.
Sending Marco to you now. Stay where you are.
Damn. My heart rate amps up, pounding faster. I’m not just being paranoid. There’s something to the hulking blond who followed me into the coffee shop, then down the street, and who’s now parked outside this store. But who is he? Am I in danger? Is he an undercover cop? Part of the Mafia?
My panic builds.
“Look, I might have to call my boss and see if I’m allowed to authorize a trade,” the clerk says, interrupting my impending crash out.
“You know what, I really like this magnet,” I say with forced brightness. “I think I may just buy another magnet instead of trading.”
The clerk looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
And he’s not really wrong with that assumption, because I feel like I have.
All I did was go out for tea across the street, and now I’m being tailed by someone. Potentially a very dangerous criminal someone. A someone who wants to do me harm because of the people I’m associated with.
Dear God, what did I get myself into?
A text pops up on my phone. It’s from Alessio again.
Are you staying in the store?
Yes.
See if you can get another pic of him.
I sidle to the window, a sheen of sweat on my brow like it’s July instead of March. The light-haired guy in the dark hat and coat is there, still on the phone. With a shaking hand, I zoom in and snap three pictures in rapid succession. I’m so panicked that I don’t know if it’s blurry or if he saw me.
Suddenly, a sleek, black SUV pulls up to the curb. He looks down the street past the shop I’m hiding in for a second before ducking into the back of the vehicle. The door shuts, and the car heads into traffic. Frantically, I take a few more pictures of the SUV, hoping to get a license plate.
A huge guy walks in front of the store from the opposite direction as the SUV disappears into traffic, and some of my panic eases when I recognize Marco from the penthouse door. He comes in, the bell tinkling overhead.
My phone buzzes, and I look down, realizing I missed a flurry of texts while I was trying to get a picture of the license plate.
You still there?
Answer me.
Marco’s inside the shop now.
Marco spots me, which is easy because I’m hiding in plain sight like the creative writing professor I am. I’m not accustomed to being followed by nefarious-looking men. Or having guards. Or any of this stuff. I tap off a quick reply.
I see Marco.
“You ready to go?” Marco asks me, his face as expressionless as before.
I wonder if all the Andriani guards are AI robots or if they’ve just been told to never show a hint of humanity.
“Sorry,” I tell the clerk. “Changed my mind again. Guess I’ll stick with the magnet I already bought.”
The clerk huffs out a sigh like I’m possibly the most annoying customer he’s ever had. “Have a great day.”
