Page 106 of Effortless

Her father said it.

Killed a man.

Her gaze darted between her brother and father.

Learning that should have scared her; it should have bothered her deeply. It did, in some ways. It also didn’t bother her at all in other ways. It didn’t bother her because sitting across from her were two of the best men she had ever known. Her father and brother. Men who were criminals, and who often did bad things, yet loved with all they had.

Good men.

“But why?” Camilla asked. “He didn’t know me. He didn’t have to protect my honor or some shit. He didn’t have any reason to do that at all.”

If anything because she had spent the night with him after simply meeting him, Tommaso might have actually had reason to agree with the guy he killed.

Cross shook his head. “You don’t get it, Cam.”

“I think she does,” her father said, still staring at his daughter. “Answer your own question, Camilla. Why would Tommaso do something like that?”

Camilla’s throat tightened.

Her heart hurt again.

She still answered.

“Because he’s a good man.”

And she was a scared little girl.

Calisto and Cross had not been lying.

Camilla’s greatest pet peeve was dirt, dust, or clutter. Despite the mess she could be when it came to life and love, her apartment was not one. Cleanliness and tidiness in her personal spaces helped her to feel put together.

Even if it was just an illusion.

Plus, cleaning helped to keep her hands distracted. That way, she didn’t have the worst urge to grab her phone, and make a call to Tommaso.

She wasn’t quite ready to that.

She wanted to, sure.

Being ready was another story altogether.

Camilla heaved the clothes out of the dryer, and into the waiting basket. She had already swept and mopped every single floor in her apartment. She dusted every shelf, and corner. She rearranged the books on the shelves, and then reorganized a junk drawer that no longer had a lot of junk in it.

All she had left to do was one single basket of laundry to fold and put away. Then maybe she could get to work on the essay she had pushed aside a couple of days earlier. When—or if—she got that done for school, then she would consider calling Tommaso.

She was hoping to feel a bit calmer, then.

Less anxious.

Like maybe she would actually know what to say should he pick up the fucking phone.

But who was to say he would pick it up?

After what she did, she wouldn’t blame him for ignoring her altogether.

Camilla climbed two flights of stairs to get back to her apartment from where the laundry room was situated in the building. By the time she got back into her place and put the basket on the bed, her fingers were itching again.

Frustrated, she shoved her hands down into the clothes to grab something to fold. Another distraction for her.