Page 80 of Unlock My Heart

Unease morphs to panic as I scroll through my contacts and call Nic.

“Whatsup?”

“Sorry to bother you, but Fabien’s not answering his phone, and he’s supposed to pick me up from class,” I say in a rush.

“Who is this?” he drawls.

“Sienna!”

“Sienna, I’m messing with you.”

I’m too wound up to play along. “Do you know where he is?”

“Nope. But I’ll come get you and take you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that; I can walk.”

“And risk Fabien cutting off my balls when he finds out that I let you walk the streets alone?”

“We can’t have castration on my conscience.” I give him the address before ending the call and plopping down on the nearest bench.

If Nic doesn’t know where Fabien is, it’s unlikely that Vitto passed away. Nic’s family; surely he would know. In that case, maybe something came up business-wise. But even when Fabien is busy, he always finds time to answer my texts.

Before I unravel like a spool of thread, I grab my sketchpad and pencil from my backpack. Turning to a black page, I let my hand take over, a sort of free-flow drawing that starts to take the shape of a macabre gowned figure covered by a veil. Looking way too much like a second line to heaven ensemble for my taste, I close my sketchpad with a dramatic thump.

A flashy sports car pulls up, the window rolling down. “Balls still in jeopardy here,” Nic calls.

With a smile, I shake my head and walk to the curb, climbing into the passenger seat. “You and your cousin in a competition?”

“No competition. My car’s better,” Nic boasts.

“This isn’t like Fabien to forget to pick me up. Are you sure he’s alright?” I press him.

Nic shrugs.

“Could you try calling him? Please?” I clasp my hands together.

“Oh, alright,” he grumbles, fiddling with his phone.

The call comes through the car’s speaker, and to my surprise, Fabien answers in Italian. “Mio padre mi ha appena piazzato davanti un contratto di matrimonio. Incontrerò la ragazza stasera in hotel. Che cazzo faccio?”

“Merda. Non lo so, ma ho la tua ragazza con me. La sto riportando a casa tua,” Nic responds.

“Tienila lì finché non riesco a trovare un modo per uscire da questa situazione.”

Having had enough of this conversation that I don’t understand, I interject, “Fabien, what’s going on?”

But he’s already hung up.

I glance over to Nic, but he refuses to make eye contact. “What’s happening?”

“I’m to hang out with you until things are sorted.”

“What things?” I demand.

“Family business,” he says, which answers nothing.

We arrive at the apartment, and I unlock the door, and Nic follows me inside. “Fabien handles family business all the time; why do I suddenly need a babysitter?” I point out.