Page 55 of Cavaliere

I make a show of storming back upstairs and shutting the bedroom door loud enough for Rob to hear because I know he was listening for it. I quickly stuff my phone and wallet into my crossbody bag before slipping on my vans. If they won’t take me, I’ll just take myself. And if any of them have an issue with it, they can kiss my ass.

Very slowly, I open the bedroom door again, this time careful not to make a sound as I head toward the library. The other day, when I was lying out by the pool, I noticed it has a terrace with stairs leading down to the backyard.

The sound of Rob’s game gets further and further away until it’s a very faint background noise as I reach the patio door. “Please don’t let there be any alarms on,” I whisper, pausing with my hand on the door handle. “It’s now or never, bitch.” I take one more deep breath before I slowly turn the handle and push the door open, squeezing my eyes shut as I pause again, waiting to hear Rob’s heavy footsteps storming up the stairs to stop me.

But they never come.

I’m met with the same faint sound.

A smile slowly spreads across my face as I dart down the stairs. Sweet victory.

I remember from my run with Matteo that The Drip wasn’t unbearable, so walking shouldn’t take me too long. I have a little cash on me for a cab, but I want to make sure I’m far enough away from Matteo’s house before I call one. The last thing I need is for Rob to realize I’m gone and find me waiting at the end of the driveway like an idiot.

The Drip seems like the perfect middle ground. I had never thought about it before, but that place is kind of on the line between the richy-rich side of the city and mine. Maybe that’s why I always liked it so much. For an hour, I could forget about all of my responsibilities that weigh me down and actually feel like a normal person in society that has their shit together.

I make it out onto the street without being noticed. There isn’t a man in sight, which I find odd. From what I’ve observed during the few times I have come and gone from this place, there are always a couple guarding outside. That little pessimistic voice in the back of my head is telling me that leaving was too easy. There has to be a catch.

But what?

Matteo hasn’t been around all day, not to mention he didn’t even bother to check in. I just hope I’m back in time before he actually realizes I’m not around. The last thing I want to deal with tonight is his fucking attitude.

My path is lit by the dim street lamps.

It’s just me and the shadows tonight.

Even though I know I’m on the good side of the city, I still take my can of pepper spray out of my bag and place the kitty ring on my finger. Unfortunately, I know all too well what can pop out of the shadows.

It’s not until I’m about ten minutes into my long walk that the paranoia starts to set in. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself it is because I refuse to believe someone is following me again. I don’t have the courage to take a quick look over my shoulder yet, but I just have that feeling. It’s the same one I had on that night I was assaulted. That feeling where the skin on your back prickles from where the unwanted eyes are boring.

A shiver runs through me at the memory. I pick up my pace as I push it to the back of my mind.

In what had to have been the longest forty minutes of my life, I finally made it to The Drip. I’m relieved to find the open sign is still on. I didn’t bother checking the hours before I left.

The bell chimes on the door as I walk inside, inhaling the familiar coffee scent.

I’m surprised that I have to wait in line, considering it’s almost eight p.m. After looking over the menu, I decide on a matcha latte.

My body tenses as the skin on the back of my neck begins to prickle again. The feeling that I’m being watched returns with a vengeance. I try my best to shake it off as I move up a few steps in line. My eyes dart around, hoping to meet someone’s gaze so I can blame it on them and stop being so fucking paranoid, but I come up empty.

A warm flow of air grazes the back of my neck, making me freeze. The presence of heat at my back tells me that someone in line behind me is getting a little too close for comfort.

Nothing would happen in a public place like this, right?

Surely, not when I’m in a line full of people.

“I thought I told you to not leave my house without a man on you.” A sinister whisper whips across the nape of my neck, paralyzing me with fear.

Oh fuck.

“I’m not a happy man, tesoro.” That paralyzing fear lasts all of two seconds. At the recognition of Matteo’s voice, I’m no longer afraid. No, I’m fucking pissed. “You’ve been a very naughty girl.”

“I wouldn’t have had to leave like that if you were actually reasonable,” I hiss quietly, careful not to draw attention. I absolutely despise causing scenes in public. Obviously, there are times when it’s necessary. Every once in a while, you come across someone who needs to be brought back down to reality, but for the most part, I strongly believe heated conversations are not anyone's business but who it’s between.

“How have I not been reasonable? You were almost killed not that long ago. Have you forgotten that?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. Thanks for the reminder, you dick.”

The cashier cuts Matteo off from whatever bullshit he was about to spew to take my order. I take out my card to pay, but Matteo’s seething glare stops me mid-pull. “Don’t push it,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “You are on thin fucking ice, Wren. Thin. Fucking. Ice.”