“I’m not sure. Tall. Dark coat. Maybe European?”
Fury claws its way up my throat. Is this what Nico was doing while I explained to his son that he didn’t want to be his dad? Trying to figure out if he could come pick him up sometime in the next decade?
The receptionist notices my expression and quickly adds, “Don’t worry, we didn’t release any information. We told him only parents or approved guardians could pick a child up.”
I nod slowly and breathe. “Good.”
Noah is already halfway toward the classroom when I finally let go of his hand.
I watch him disappear down the hallway.
Then I walk back out into the cold morning air with a knot in my stomach that won’t go away.
Notte Bianca is a mess.
That’s the only way to describe it.
Donald is pacing like a stressed-out chicken the moment I walk in. The kitchen is already behind schedule and the lunch rush hasn’t even started yet.
“Where the hell have you been?” Donald snaps the second he sees me.
“It’s fifteen minutes before my shift.”
“Then you’re too late. Don’t you know we’re short-staffed?”
Yeah? And whose fault is that?
I bite my tongue. Arguing with Donald is like wrestling a pig. The pig enjoys it and you end up covered in mud.
Instead, I slip into my uniform and get to work.
The restaurant fills quickly. Too quickly.
We’re more than short-staffed. Amber called in sick. Savannah hasn’t been in all week, and according to the rumors, Gerard has left the country after being threatened in the same alley he got his nose broken in. Half the usual crew has disappeared, and the replacements Donald hired are teenagers who look like they wandered in from a mall food court.
I spend half the day doing my job and the other half doing theirs.
And even with all that, something feels off.
I notice it around the middle of the dinner shift.
Two men are sitting at a table near the bar. They aren’t eating much. They aren’t drinking much either. They’re just watching.
Every now and then one of them glances toward me.
I tell myself I’m imagining things, but the feeling doesn’t go away.
By the time I finally get a break, I’m exhausted. Ready to collapse face-first into concrete and call it a bed.
I push open the staff room door and head straight for my locker.
Then, I stop.
The door is slightly open.
I know I locked it, though.
My stomach tightens. I pull it open slowly.
