“I’m sure her husband already informed her, and he tried stopping her from driving you to your lessons many times over. How many days over the last few weeks have you gone without her?”
My shoulders slumped. “None.”
“There you go.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s stubborn. It’s probably why I like her so much.”
An amused half-smile appeared on his lips.
“And she loves you.” He studied me intently, eyes roaming my face. “But nobody likes you more than me.”
A shiver trailed down my spine. “I like you too.”
The words paled in comparison to what I actually felt, but I wasn’t sure he—or maybe it was me—was ready for a bigger word.
Dina drove through the city while I clutched the door handle, murmuring prayers to whoever might listen.
“We’re not in a rush,” I hissed, my knuckles turning white. Kian’s guards, who were tailing us, were long gone, although Dina assured me that by the time we parked, they’d catch up.
“I should have driven myself,” I muttered under my breath.
She came to a stoplight with screeching tires and glanced at me, slipping her sunglasses down her nose.
“I love you, Sophie, but you’re a terrible driver.”
“Me? You just violated every traffic law and probably caused a few accidents!” I glanced around us as if looking for witnesses. “What happened? You usually drive better than this.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I feel comfortable showing you my wild side.”
I let out a dry, non-humorous laugh. “I love you, but I would kind of rather you didn’t. I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke.”
She threw her head back and laughed just as the light turned green, and I regretted not jumping out.
We drove through the old part of town, past white walls scorched by years of summer and bougainvillea spilling pink and purple over balconies.
My Albanian teacher’s building sat just ahead in a narrow street, and the moment Dina pulled over to the side, I reached for the door handle and jumped out of the car.
“You park,” I said. “You know where I’ll be.”
Before she could answer, I slammed the door and rushed away, my sandals slapping softly against the warm stone. I cut through oblivious-looking tourists, Kian’s warning at the forefront of my mind.
I was reaching for the buzzer on the door when a shadow cut across the ground. I didn’t even have time to turn around when someone grabbed my wrist.
Fingernails pressed in and I froze at the shrill voice that followed. “Sophie.”
Jacqueline came into view, sunlight catching in her blonde hair, her black linen dress making her appear like a widow among the colorful old town. Her smile was stiff and her eyes were unfocused, something about it unsettling.
I took a step back, but suddenly a broad man stepped forward, sunglasses hiding most of his face. The commotion of the street faded, like cotton had been stuffed into my ears. All I could smell was Jacqueline’s rotten perfume, clinging to the air.
I glanced around me, but there was nobody familiar in sight.
My stomach dropped.
One stupid, impulsive move and I’d found myself cornered.
“What do you want, Jacqueline?” I hissed.
She laughed, the shrillness of it grating on my nerves and spiking my fear. “You.”
