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“What is it?” Ilias’s brows furrowed.
“I’d left my purse in your house. Do you think—”
“Don’t worry about it. Arlo will most likely bring it if he finds it.”
Most likely?
“They should be ready for us. Lucca called when we left,” Viktor said as he rolled past a small boutique and parked the car by the back entrance.
“This is all not necessary—” I began.
“Davina, we’ll be fine. Just a quick stop, and we’ll head back.” Ilias squeezed my thigh before exiting the car, taking my hand to follow.
“I’ll wait here,” Viktor’s unconcerned voice said before Ilias shut the door.
There were two people waiting for us when we stepped inside the shop. A heavy-set older man, with a smile I didn’t trust the longer I saw it. His hair was thinning at the edges showing his age. Next to him was a thin blonde-haired woman. Her lips were too full to be natural, and her jawline was heavily pronounced by the amount of make-up that tried to hide her age. Although, her smile was able to put me at ease compared to the man’s, and I took a second to relax.
“Ilias! It’s been a long time, how have you been—and who is this beautiful woman?” His accent was a thick mix of Italian and Cuban, and his smile only grew more.
Ilias took a step closer to me. “Thank you for closing the shop, Roberto. We’ll only be a few minutes.”
I noticed how he didn’t explain or say anything about me. It didn’t bother me. On the contrary, I was able to breathe easily.
“Of course, take what you need. We’ll give you some space.” Roberto waved his hand further into the shop, and with the smile that never left, he stepped out of the way and toward the far corner, along with the woman whose name I’d not learned.
“Anything specific?” Ilias asked, but his attention was still on the couple.
“Something warm?”
“Figures.” He chuckled.
After a few minutes inside, the clothes I had in my hands cost more money than I ever owned in New York. Just one pair of jeans could’ve bought me food for a week.
“Here, I’ll take them to the dressing room,” Ilias offered.
With a small smile, I shook my head. “I don’t need to try on everything, just the jeans. Here, hold these instead.” He reached out while I placed the tops and sweaters on his arms as I kept the bottoms. “I’ll be a sec.”
Leaving Ilias behind, I headed toward the dressing room, and Roberto surprised me as his voice drowned the light background music of the shop. “Use the one on the right, bambina!”
I acknowledged him with a nod but stopped when Ilias asked, “Why?”
“The light bulb is out on the other,” Roberto explained.
A quick glance to my left confirmed it. Behind the curtain, only darkness spilled through the lit hall.
Opening the curtain to the dressing room on the right, I made sure the material was secured to the corner. Then, I felt it again.
The looming presence of death.
“It’s the paranoia, Davina,” I whispered, bringing the denim closer to my chest. My eyes couldn’t leave the white shiny floors and dread-filled goosebumps covered my skin in a rush.
When my eyes lifted to the mirror, I saw him. Index finger pressed over his faint tilted smile, knife rolling through his fingers close to his side, and eyes that terrified my vocal cords to attempt the slightest sound.
Nightmare.
My hands balled underneath the jeans, trying to hide the tremors, the memories, the pain.
I couldn’t remove my eyes from the mirror, from him.
