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I take it, but only so I can watch my dream girl a few seconds longer as she crosses the street, not looking back.
Good girl. You get clear of this place and these people. I’m gonna find you, and make sure you’re okay.
“I was sorry to hear what happened…to your family,” Portello adds, shaking his head a little, acting as if it were someone else who ordered the bloodbath that even I can still see traces of.
But that’s Portello all over.
A total psychopath with only himself in mind, everyone else is just a cog in his machine.
While he reflects, it gives me plenty of time to slip my hand over the ball of pink paper I saw my girl clutching earlier. I lift it silently from the table and into the pocket of my jacket.
“My father asked me to come,” I tell him truthfully, showing no emotion.
Not letting the rising hate and anger I feel for him bubble up.
No.
I’d rather think about the girl, the one who just left.
The one I have to find as soon as I leave here.
She’s not Portello stock, and she’sdefinitelynot from the life I live either.
And that’s a double win in my books already.
CHAPTERTHREE
Jasmine
“See you tomorrow….” One of the men opening the door sneers at me, snickering at his companion.
“…Mr. Portello doesn’t like to be kept waiting, so you better be early,” the other remarks and they both share a cold but knowing look that sends a shiver of fear right through me.
It’s totally at odds with the shiver the man who just walked in gave me, and I already feel the pain of loss because it looks like I’ll never find out who he is.
Probably never see him again.
Despite my yearning for him already, I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. Walking briskly across the street and vowing to never look back.
But never going back?
They seem pretty sure I’ll be back tomorrow.
And me?
I’d be happier if I’d never gone there in the first place.
That’s until I recall the look my mystery man gave me just now.
Even though he was hard to read, I could tell that there was more than just a passing glance going on between us.
I’m surprised the traffic outside didn’t stop, amazed that anyone else in that restaurant couldn’t feel what I felt.
It’s a feeling I struggle to hold onto with each step away from the place.
Each step away from him.
It feels like the further away I’m getting, the more I feel like turning myself around and going straight back.
