I grunt, ignoring the small swell of pride that warms my chest. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
My apartment is a good size—a four-bedroom with two of those used as an office and a workout room. I appreciate howspacious each room is. At six feet, five inches, a lot of places can feel claustrophobic to me. The high ceilings and big rooms here allow me to breathe.
“You can take my bedroom,” I tell her as we enter the main suite.
She looks at me with wide eyes, making me realize the implication of my words.
“Relax, I won’t be in here with you. I’m staying on the couch.”
Her brows crease. “But you have a guest room. One of us could easily stay there.”
“I want to be close to the door, and you’re safest back in the primary.”
“You’re going to sleep on the couch? What if this goes on for weeks?”
“Then I sleep on the couch for weeks. My comfort is insignificant when your life is at risk.”
Her teeth graze across her lip. “I’m not sure what to say, except thank you.”
Fuck, the sweet side of Rina Donati does things to me. Things best ignored.
“I made a promise to your brother, and I intend to keep it,” I speak the words out loud more as a reminder for me than a response to her, which is probably why they come out gruffer than I intend.
I don’t throw around promises I don’t intend to keep because I know what it’s like to break a promise. That sort of failure can haunt a person for the rest of their life.
CHAPTER 15
DIANGELO
Past
“What doyou mean he hasn’t come home yet?” I stare at my mom, confused. It’s nine in the evening. I’ve just returned from the movie theater after catching an early evening show to find out my brother still hasn’t come back from working my job at the pier.
She stares back, equally confused. “He was working, right? He hasn’t come home. Maybe he decided to eat with a friend after work.”
That might have been the case had Elio been at his own job busing tables in the air-conditioning, but it was ninety degrees today, and he was scrubbing boats at the pier. I know from experience that the only thing you want to do at that point is get home to shower.
I check my phone and show no missed calls, so I try his number.
No answer.
What the hell is he up to?
Maybe he stayed at work late and has been too busy to help, or his phone could have died. We’re both usually good about remembering to keep the phones charged since we’ve only had them for a year. It took ages to convince our parents to let us have cell phones and was the main reason we both got jobs.
With nothing better to do, I decide to head to the pier to look for him. I bound down the stairs, let my parents know I’ll be right back, then go in search of my brother. As I get closer to the pier, I dial his number again, and a phone begins to ring nearby.
I stop and search for the ringing. Confusion has me doubting myself because I could swear it’s coming from a sidewalk trashcan.
I end the call and wait. The ringing stops.
I dial his number again.
The ringing resumes.
My stomach fills with an inky black dread.
Yanking off the metal top, I pull out the bag and dump it onto the ground. My gaze quickly snags on the silver Nokia phone. I got a black phone, and he got the silver so it would be easier to tell them apart. The screen shows a missed call from D.
