Chapter 72 Caught by Him
ARYA’S POV
I just finished my third cup of gelato when the brain freeze hit me like an ice pick to the forehead.
"Ow," I gasped, pressing my hand to my temple.
Rosa, the gelato shop attendant, laughed from behind the counter. "You eat too fast, bella! You must savor it, not inhale it like a vacuum!"
"But it's so good," I protested, even as my brain continued to protest the cold assault.
"She has had three cups in twenty minutes," Rosa said to her coworker, shaking her head with amusement. "I think she likes our gelato."
I grinned in amusement. "I love your gelato," I corrected. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted."
They both beamed at me, and when I pulled out my father's black card to pay, Rosa waved it away.
"No, no. You enjoy it so much, and it makes me happy.” She reached forward to pinch my cheeks. “This one is free."
I shook my head firmly. "I can't let you do that for me."
"I insist!" She pressed a small paper bag into my hands. "And here, some biscotti for later. You are too skinny. You need to eat more."
I left the shop with a full stomach, a bag of cookies, and a smile so wide it hurt my face. This felt normal, like I was just a tourist enjoying Italy, not a kidnapped bride on the run from her mafia husband.
I climbed back on my rented bicycle and rode aimlessly through the coastal town, not knowing what to do next but not caring.
The sun was warm on my skin, the sea breeze carried the scent of salt and flowers, and for the first time in months, I felt like myself again.
A movie poster caught my eye, it was some Italian romantic comedy showing in an old cinema. On impulse, I bought a ticket and spent two hours in a dark theater, eating overpriced popcorn and laughing at jokes I only half-understood.
After the movie, I wandered into a small art gallery. Then a bookshop where I bought three novels I would probably never read. Then a café where I had the best cannoli of my life while watching the sunset.
Every time my phone buzzed, I ignored it. I could only imagine how furious Giovanni must be but I didn’t care.
As evening fell and the town's nightlife began to emerge, I passed by a club with music thumping from inside. A sign outside advertised drink specials, and through the windows, I could see people dancing, and laughing.
When was the last time I'd been to a club? I guess it was before my entire life had been upended, the night before I was supposed to marry that jerk.
I wanted that again. I wanted to feel young and reckless.
I spotted a boutique next door with a "SALE" sign in the window. Inside, I found a strapless black dress and smiled, conniving.
Twenty minutes and one quick change in the boutique's bathroom later, I was standing in line at the club entrance, my heart racing with anticipation and nerves.
"ID," the bouncer grunted.
I handed it over and he examined it closely, each second made my heart race and I feared he might turn out to be one of Giovanni’s men.
He had shown me how far his influence was in the city.
"She's with me!" Someone suddenly said.
I turned to find a striking woman with short pink hair and a leather jacket grinning at me. She waved at the bouncer. "Right, tesoro? We're meeting the others inside."
I had no idea who this woman was, but I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Sorry I'm late!"
The bouncer looked between us, clearly suspicious, but finally stamped my hand and waved us through.
"Thank you so much," I said to the pink-haired woman once we were inside. "I thought he was going to turn me away."
"Bruno's a dick," she said cheerfully, extending her hand. "I'm Mitch. And you looked like you needed saving."
"Arya," I said, shaking her hand. "And I definitely did."
We hit it off immediately. Mitch was funny, apparently she was a graphic designer from Milan visiting the coast for the weekend. We ordered drinks at the bar, and before I knew it, I was telling her everything.
Well, not everything. Not the kidnapping or the contract or the fact that I technically died last night.
But I told her about my controlling husband and how I felt trapped, and that I was currenly running away for one day of freedom.
"Wait, wait," Mitch said, nearly spitting out her drink with laughter. "You climbed out a window? While your husband was downstairs?"
"I used a trellis," I said defensively. "A very sturdy trellis."
"That's-" She dissolved into giggles. "That's incredible. Your husband sounds like a piece of work."
"He is," I said, taking another sip of my drink. "He's controlling and possessive and he makes decisions without consulting me and he-" I stopped, surprised to find tears pricking at my eyes. "He's infuriating."
"But you love him," Mitch said, her expression softening.
If looks could kill, she would be six feet under by now. "What? No. I hate him."
"Sure you do." She patted my hand. "That's why you're tearing up talking about him. Because you hate him so much."
Before I could argue, Mitch's friends arrived, they were a loud, energetic group who swept her away in a tide of laughter and excited hugs.
"I'll be right back!" Mitch called over her shoulder.
But she didn't come back. I watched her dancing with her friends, and suddenly felt alone.
I sat at the bar, nursing my drink, reality slowly settling back over me like a heavy blanket.
This day was fun. But it was temporary. An illusion of freedom that couldn't last.
Because eventually, I would have to go back to Giovanni.
I was setting down my empty glass, preparing to leave, when a voice behind me made my entire body freeze.
"Running away, dolcezza? That's becoming quite a habit of yours."
THE WAY SHE HAD THE BEST DAY OF HER LIFE JUST FOR HIM TO SHOW UP 😭