Tiny tags hang from a thread tied around the head of each pin. I read a tag hanging from a large blue pin that’s stabbed into the heart of Isola di Monteverro. It’s a date and time.
Rows of color-coded sticky notes frame the map. I look for a blue note with the date and time marked at the top and find the one matching the tag. It reads:
Plane landed in Paris.
Holy crap.
I read the note under it.
Val’s tracking signal recorded.
Alessio tracks his sister’s whereabouts.
I read the other notes. They’re all about Val’s movements, and they’re dating back at least three years. Holy crap, Alessio’s been tracking his sister for years. Does she know?
It’s clear that the map is usually hidden behind a sliding panel. Does Val know about this?
I recall her saying how it’s not the first time she’s taken his plane and how her baby daddy and Alessio are enemies. Want a way to piss off your controlling brother? Sleep with his enemy.
Alessio will hate it. But also, Val’s no pushover. She does what she wants. I admire that.
Gaping at Alessio, I point at the map, accusing him of tracking his sister.
Alessio mouths,What?
“Stalking your own sister is next level,” I whisper because he’s on the phone.
Alessio chuckles and extends a hand toward me. I take it, and he yanks me forward so I tumble into his lap. He holds me down by my hip when I try to get up. There’s no escape. I throw up my hands.
Clearly suppressing a smile, Alessio pinches his lips. When I try to get up again, he digs his fingers into my hip and growls while also shaking his head.
I’m stuck on his lap.
My shoulders slump, and I sigh dramatically but don’t fight him. It’s a losing battle. If he’s the lion, I’m a gazelle. I just want to graze the grass, mind my business, and not get spotted by a lion.
Yeah, well, I should’ve run when I saw him in the bar. He threw up so many barriers, telling me, quietly and politely, that he didn’t want to be approached by a woman. But I couldn’t walk away.
“My emotional support pet arrived,” Alessio says, no doubt describing me to the man on the other line.
“I had no idea you had one,” the man says.
“I do. She’s very cute. Say hi to Mr. Bono.”
“Hi,” I say.
Mr. Bono doesn’t utter a word, probably because he expected an actual pet, and pets don’t speak.
Alessio gives my hip a squeeze. “You look lovely,” he murmurs.
“Thank you.”
Alessio plays in the big leagues, and I’m sure he knows that the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through compliments.
He refreshes something on the screen. “It’s outdated,” he says.
“I updated it this morning,” the man replies.
“It’s almost noon,” Alessio says in a tone that makes me think he’s convinced it’s midnight and the entire day is over.
