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On the far wall was a kitchenette, but the smallest one you could imagine.
I had a dorm room sized fridge that was pretty much only ever stocked with bagged salads, fruit, and yogurt. On the counter, I had a sink, a coffee machine, and a small exposed shelf to store the couple of plates and bowls I had, along with the coffee and sugar.
I had a sugar stipend, mind you. Which meant I’d needed to learn to drink my coffee with about a third the sweetness I was used to. And absolutely no cream.
Even cups of coffee had lost their comforting familiarity under Colin’s tyrannical reign.
I had a black wardrobe where I kept the clothes I’d come to Colin with. And about three outfits my brothers had been good enough to give me for birthdays or holidays.
Extra blankets and cleaning supplies were tucked discreetly inside the console table behind the door.
The floors were a dark hardwood and the walls were an off-white. But a cool tone, not a warm one.
It wasn’t a bad space.
It just wasn’t homey.
Which I guess was a good thing. The last thing I wanted was to become complacent, to accept this as my fate.
With a sigh, I kicked off my shoes and moved into the space, setting my vitamins on the coffee table in the living room in case Colin came to verify what I’d said about my appointment.
Once upon a time, I used to be pretty, well, laid-back. Sure, I’d been much younger, too. But I liked to think it was just a part of who I was. I didn’t worry too much about things. I went with the flow. I rarely felt the need to think four or five steps ahead of everyone else.
I hated Colin for a lot of reasons. But next to what he was doing to my brothers, I hated him most for forcing me to become something I never wanted to be.
Anxious, paranoid, and regimented.
I had rituals upon rituals that I did on almost a daily basis. I never gave myself a chance to breathe. I couldn’t risk it.
See, the first year or so, I screwed up constantly because I didn’t know how high my guard had to be up, how securely I had to make sure it was in place.
But Colin’s constant invasions on my privacy, his relentless gathering of knowledge to use against me, yeah, it wasn’t too long before I learned to start to play my cards closer to my vest, to make sure he didn’t get any other secrets than he’d already gotten from me. Or, worst yet, caught me in a lie.
So I planned. Then I replanned. Then I analyzed the plan to make sure there wasn’t a single way the scenario could go that I hadn’t already thought of and had a way to handle.
I didn’t dare write anything down. So I had to get really good at planning things out in my head.
I also didn’t have access, on my own, for the internet.
Luckily, I did have two doting brothers who would toss me their phones when they were around, so I could do all the researching I needed to do.
That was how I’d figured out the connection between Cody and the New Jersey mafia.
Painstakingly.
Over the course of several years. Ten stolen minutes at a time.
Which was why it was so soul-crushing not to get the answer I wanted out of Massimo right away.
I figured that, hey, if guilt didn’t work, then the money would speak for itself. I mean, what kind of criminal wasn’t tempted by the promise of millions of dollars?
A bad one.
Or one who already had millions, and easy ways to make millions more, so helping me handle my mess of a situation wasn’t exactly high on the priority list.
Whatever the reason was, it made my heart crush in my chest whenever I thought of walking away without an answer.
Because, come on, everyone knew that his little ‘talk to my boss and let you know’ bullshit was code for ‘you will never hear from me or mine again.’
