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Alaric walks to the door, peeking through the side window before opening it. “Savio,” he greets, opening the door wider. Savio walks into the space, and immediately, my stomach is in knots.
Just when I felt a resemblance of normalcy, I’m reminded that my life is anything but normal now. My husband is a hitman who works for the mob. This is my life now.
“What brings you here?” Alaric asks, motioning to the kitchen table. Savio takes a seat but doesn't take off his jacket. Good, he doesn't plan on staying long.
“I’m here to deliver the list. I wanted to bring it to you personally.” The list? Savio pulls a piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and hands it to Alaric, who took the seat beside him.
“Of course,” Alaric takes the piece of paper without looking at it. I remain standing at the kitchen counter, holding my cup of coffee with both hands. “I will get that done quickly. I know how important this is… for all of us.”
“Do you need me to look after her while you’re busy?” Savio asks.
I tighten my grip on the mug. The thought of Savio taking me anywhere alone has me on edge. He never hurt me or has been cruel like his brother, but I don’t think he is a particularly kind man either.
Alaric lifts his gaze to where I stand as though he is assessing the situation, wondering if I would make a run for it while he is gone. He hasn’t let me out of his sight, and I didn't even have time to think about trying to get away. Now that it is on my mind, I don’t think I even want to get away anymore.
I’m well aware that our relationship is not normal. Most people would call it toxic, but the crazy thing is that I've been happier for the past few days than I have been in a very long time. Alaric has been caring for me like I’m his treasure. He tends to every single one of my needs, no matter how small. He gives me his full attention every day and holds me to his body every night.
“I think she’ll be all right,” he finally answers.
“Good, I’ll head out then. Let me know if you need anything else.” Savio pushes up from where he is sitting and heads to the door.
“Wait,” I blurt out, making him stop mid step. “I just wanted to ask you something… um, about your maid… Ciara.”
“What about her?” he questions, his tone almost defensive.
“I just wanted to make sure she is okay. She helped me get ready the day of the wedding, and she was so nice to me.” I don’t mention the odd things she said or that I’m actually worried about her.
“She is doing fine…” He trails off as though he’s thinking about something. “I can bring her by sometime. Maybe for dinner?”
“Really? I mean, yes, please!” I agree eagerly. I haven't had a friend since eighth grade, which is when I started working two jobs to make sure Grams had the money for her medicine.
A grin ghosts over Savio’s lips before he turns away from me and opens the door. He leaves, and Alaric locks up after him.
“Get ready, so we can leave. I want to spend the morning with you since I’ll be busy the rest of the day,” Alaric announces.
I finish the coffee in my hand. Once the mug is empty, I rush into the bedroom to get ready. Alaric is dressed and ready to go ten minutes before I am, but he simply sits on the edge of the bed and patiently waits for me.
“Ready,” I call out after I manage to wrangle my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head.
“Great.” Alaric smiles, getting up from the bed, and runs his palms down his button-up shirt. The gesture is simple, but something about it is off. It’s as if he… is nervous or something. I haven't known him terribly long, but we have been through quite a lot together, and not once have I seen him nervous. That fact is more than unsettling.
“Are you okay?” I ask, a sliver of fear running up my spine.
“Yes, I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”
I really hope so.
We leave the house and get into his car. Even with him assuring me multiple times, I can't help but feel uneasy. We drive for about ten minutes, and I spend every second of it searching our surroundings for a clue where we could be going. I still come up empty.
Alaric suddenly turns onto a small road, which leads to a gate of some sort. “I don’t think you can drive through here,” I tell him when I realize it’s one of those upscale gated communities. There is a golf course on the right, and I can see a fancy-looking white building, which I’m assuming is their country club sitting on top of the hill.
