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I feel my heart turn to stone. Who is it now? They had the passcode, so I hoped it was a drunk regular hoping for a nightcap.
I turn to face the intruder slowly.
My face turns ashen white.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
A man from my distant past stands before me. My father had him banned from New York a decade ago. The last time I saw him, his hair was pitch black.
Now it’s sprinkled with grey.
I could never forget “Redneck.” He was the orchestra to the violence surrounding us in our childhoods.
There to protect us when we were in danger - until he sold our family secrets for a million bucks.
Hopefully, given how distant he’s been from the ongoings of the Battaglia family, he won’t know I’m on the run.
“You’re not hard to find, Rosalie Battaglia,” he grinned, walking towards me to hug me.
I oblige, for right now, I don’t want no trouble. Also, back in the day, I liked him... kind of.
“I go by Emily Jackson now,” I say, hoping he won’t ask any further questions.
“The world is looking for you,” he mumbles. “Believe it or not, your father wants you back.”
“Fuck you, Redneck,” I spit at him.
Face reddened with rage, he grips my hair and pulls me away from the bar. I am now on the floor, and he pulls me to the door. “Talk like that again, Principessa, and I’ll take you right back to Daddy.”
Only a man like Redneck could call me princess while pulling me like an animal.
“Okay, okay,” I screech, twisting his hand until he lets go of my hand, and I jump to my feet. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”
I walk to the bar and pour us both drinks. Even while my back is to him, my ears are focused on the slightest sound of movement.
I jerk when I hear the sound of chairs pulling out.
I turn and carry over the two scotch sodas I made. To go through this, I prefer my drinks to be strong too.
Redneck’s eyes are softer now. I can tell he feels some affection toward his old friend.
I just want to know why.
“Rosalie,” he says, leaning back on his chair. “People have been sheltering you, haven’t they? Spying in New York in your stead, getting you this job, this new identity.”
“I never asked them to. And I pay them well for protection, so it’s not like they have feelings for me.”
His hands curl into fists almost violently. “It’s because they’re women, isn’t it?” he asks. “You always think you can use women as a shield. Never fucking men.”
“I just don’t understand you,” I say, ignoring his comment. “I made a deal with them, though! We made a deal that benefits me as well.”
“How much do you pay them for protection? What do they do for you? I heard it’s a crazy women’s network. Some group of hackers?”
I shake my head with disbelief. He had no limits. No loyalty to anyone.
“Rosalie,” he says, leaning forward to taunt me. “You think you’re smart, don’t you. That you can outwit the people around you. But you’re not like that. You could outwit because you had the mafioso.”
“You think that I’m stupid because I was born into privilege? That doesn’t mean a thing. I wasn’t born spoiled. I worked hard for a lot of things in my life. Almost everything.”
