AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Be my guest, but you might be out there a while.” I move away from the doors, leaving Gianni staring into the garden.
“This isn’t your house.” His frankness could be misconstrued. I work in a coffee shop so why would I live in a house like this?
“It’s my parents’ house,” I admit, standing on the far side of the kitchen, keeping my distance from him. I’m sure he’s undone one of the top buttons on his shirt.
“You live with your parents?” He has moved over to the barstools that surround the island. He seems unsure of whether he belongs here.
“No, I have my own place, which is a fraction of the size of this house.” I suddenly feel very overdressed. “I’m house-sitting. My parents have a villa in Greece where they spend a lot of their time. Frank and I house-sit between us, usually taking turns, but we’re both here at the minute as it fits in with his current job.” I hope Gianni doesn’t question me further about why I’m here at the same time as my brother.
“It’s not so bad, I suppose,” Gianni muses out loud, a smile almost crossing his face.
“Cleaning it is a fucking bitch, though.” I turn away, unable to look at him any longer without feeling exposed in this dress that I now wish I hadn’t worn.
“You should call the police,” Gianni reminds me. I give him a small nod and return to the hall where I’d abandoned my bag.
The seconds away from him give me a moment to clear my head. The window is a worry. Could Cora be responsible? My last encounter with her was anything but amicable.
I arrive at the café to see Cora stalking behind the counter like a caged animal. Her hands are on her hips, her head down as if she is reciting some ancient mantra. My breath catches in my lungs as I freeze before the counter.
“I don’t even know how you dare to walk through my door,” Cora screeches. “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”
I hold her brutal stare, endless possibilities of what I could’ve done racing through my head.
But then I remember Carl.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My calm voice belies the fear now stirring in my stomach. Carl had sworn me to secrecy.
“Don’t give me that shit.” She leers. “Richard told me everything.” Her triumph is quickly replaced with a venomous snarl. “Everything.”
I doubt he told her anything, at least nothing that would constitute the truth. But he has told her something.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I inch forward, but Cora’s movements behind the counter stop me. I’m not getting behind the counter today.
“I know what you did to him in that bar last night. You were seen. So stop fucking pretending you’re innocent.”
That is one thing I’ve never pretended to be, but I still don’t see how Cora could know this. Surely, Carl hadn’t broken his own pact?
Cora pulls her phone from her pocket and swipes at the screen like a madwoman. She thrusts the device over the counter but doesn't let it go, probably scared I will steal it.
She has a photo of Carl and me. We are in the shadows down the side of the bar. Carl is huddled over me, his arm resting on the wall, blocking my exit. I know what the photo shows, and I am sure it would appear the same to anyone else—a woman pinned against a wall by a man who won’t let her go. I shudder, remembering how I felt in that dark, dank alley.
“One of the customers saw you with him. She took this photo and sent it to me. She thought I needed to know.” Really? What a Good Samaritan.
I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure how Carl explained it, so I have to tread carefully. There is no way he told her the truth. He will have made something up to save his own skin.
I remain silent. She’s too wound up to listen to reason. She must have spent the entire night concocting her own story in her head and mixing it with Carl’s version of events.
“You saw him in the bar. He was out with a few friends, and as soon as you realized I wasn’t with him, you thought you would try your luck,” Cora spews. I try to count the lies in that one sentence, but she chases it with a few more. “You walked right over to him and started flirting like the fucking whore you are. Did you think you’d get away with this?”
“I…” I begin, but what the hell can I say? I can’t tell her the truth.
“There’s no point denying it, you dirty little tramp. Richard told me he had to get you outside the bar and threaten you to stay away from him. He told me you draped yourself all over him, saying he was married to your boss, and you thought he was too good-looking to be married to a café owner. He said you were making a fool of yourself and embarrassing him and his friends. And do you know what? He wasn’t going to tell me. He only told me when I showed him the picture. He said he felt sorry for you. You were drunk and pathetic, and he didn’t want you to lose your job. Well, it’s too fucking late for that.”
It's time to leave. I turn, but her screech is like a barrier going down over the door.
“Do you have nothing to say to me? Are you not going to apologize or defend yourself? Are you that fucking pathetic?”
I grind my teeth as my hand balls into a fist inside the sleeve of my jacket.
