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He’s after Nina, and my profession. I don’t care what needs to be done.
I reach the car and get behind the wheel. Nina is trying her best to ignore the fact that I am staring at her.
She is picking at the bright red nail polish on her fingers, her hair falls over her shoulders as she turns her face in the opposite direction. Her hair is the kind of brown that is rich and deep until a shimmer of light breaks through the strands. The lights on the street bring out a subtle hue of gold and auburn.
I start the car up, shifting the gear into reverse to get her home before anyone finds out she was missing.
13NINA
Ithrow myself on the couch and reach for the remote.
When Giovanni drove us back home, I didn’t have a single thing to say to him once I saw a stain on his sleeve. A stain that was dark red and all too familiar.
I am unbelievably exhausted after the turn of events that happened today.
The house feels empty, but it’s just quiet because of how early in the morning it is. My sister never came back to the house after Giovanni and I got back. Carlo must have taken her back to his place.
I don’t think Carlo is the possessive type of husband, but I do think she will be hearing a speech tonight. I’ll be hearing all about it; Ana isn’t the type to keep her mouth closed.
I pull the pillow closer under my head, drifting asleep while an action movie plays in the background.
The main character kidnaps his love interest against her will. He kills people left and right, showing no emotion. I let the irony of that slide right past me.
“Nina.” A voice approaching from behind me breaks my thoughts.
Giovanni is wearing sweatpants and a black scoop-neck T-shirt. I have never seen him in anything other than his expensive suits before, but he pulls off both looks.
He steps closer to me, taking a seat next to me on the couch.
A numbness creeps into my mind as he swirls the drink in his hand.
He looks me up and down. One of my legs is sprawled out from under the blanket.
“I thought I told you not to wear that shit.” His tone is low and demanding.
I maintain eye contact.
I don’t know who he thinks he is to make demands like that. In the comfort of my own house, I can wear whatever the hell I want to.
“What’re you drinking?” I ask.
“You want a taste?”
Repositioning myself on the couch, I reach over to him to grab the glass from his hands.
I have always been a wine drinker—occasionally a tequila drinker, like tonight.
My face shrivels up as the whiskey floods my taste buds.
“Not for you?” he asks in a husky voice.
I cough over my laugh. “Not for me.”
I hand the glass back over to him. His brown eyes narrow down at me, and he lets out a low chuckle, the corner of his mouth lifting up. I think he just laughed.
His laugh makes me nervous.
Spending time with Giovanni puts me on edge, but it feels oddly comforting. I don’t know what to make of it.Is this a good thing or a bad thing?
