36

36


The drive felt longer than it should’ve been, even though I knew we hadn’t left the city from the sign boards. The skyline just faded into smaller buildings, then sand, then a blur of blue that almost didn’t look real through the tinted window. I kept waiting for someone to tell me why I was here, but no one said a word. Lissa sat in front with the driver tapping at her phone once in a while.

When the car finally stopped, the air that rushed in carried the smell of salt and grilled fish. It stung my nose after days of nothing but marble and air-conditioning. I blinked at the sunlight, squinting. We were at one of those open beach restaurants that I always saw in movies, white umbrellas, bamboo roofs, waiters in loose shirts with people laughing, clinking glasses, and music coming from somewhere.

Moretti got out without saying anything and immediately one of what I assumed were his guards here before us opened my door and waited. Lissa leaned back at us and said softly, “You’re staying with him,” I nodded even though she’d already turned away.

People looked at him, maybe not knowing who he was but knowing he definitely wasn't someone to mess with avoided him. Or maybe they knew him, and who he worked for. The guard shook hands with a another guard by the patio doors and he then walked off without waiting for me, while this other one motioned for me to follow him down the deck toward the beach.

I nodded and followed, the boards hot under my sandals.

The beach wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people to make it feel alive. Kids chasing each other near the waterline, couples sprawled on towels, a group of girls taking photos. I hadn’t seen this much color in so long it almost hurt to look at it. The sea was glittering and messy, the way it’s supposed to be. Wind tangled my hair and I didn’t bother fixing it.

It felt nice being outside. Yes I know I have a lot of eyes watching me right now to keep me in check but how satisfying it was that I couldn't see them, and what did they say about something being out of sight?

The guard didn’t talk to me at first and just walked a few steps behind like a shadow. Jim, particularly, I could feel, whether I liked it or not.

What was I even brought here?

To watch him work?

To pretend things were normal?

Was this another kind of test? Or did Moretti suddenly grow a heart and figured I need a fresh breath of air? Yeah, it's absolutely not possible.

I might've been with him for only a few month, but I know and I know Dante Moretti will never grow a heart and if he did, I hope it explodes.

We stopped near a food stand where a boy was selling ice cream. The guard ordered two cones without asking what I wanted. He handed one to me, already melting at the edges. “Here,” he said. “You look like you could use it.”

I stared at it for a second before collecting it and taking a bite. The taste was too sweet, almost alarmingly sweet in my mouth after days of nothing. He licked his own cone like it was going to evaporate if he didn't. “We’ll just walk,” he said, shrugging. “Boss said keep you close, not cage you.”

Not like I really care. Walk or not if I see a chance I'm taking it.

We walked along the sand, and I kept glancing at the open stretch of beach that curved out of sight. So majestic , so big. Just sky and water and the thought that I could run.

I could swim, but seriously there could be some kind of trap in the water before I even go anywhere, and there's only how far I could swim before I drown.

I looked around, taking notes of the guards around, even those in civilian fit that stood out like a sore thumb, with suspicious built

I mean I'm small, I could take a run for it. Hide in someone's car until nightfall and they're ready to leave.

But then my mind twisted it the other way—What if that’s what he wants? What if he’s watching from somewhere inside that glass building right now, waiting for me to try? What if he’s already decided what my next punishment will be, and this is just him handing me the rope to hang myself with?

Tell me Moretti killed his parents and I'd believe it.

You can never know what that man is up to.

I took another lick of the ice cream to keep my hands busy whole the engines in my head turned. The guard didn’t seem worried about me though, if he was he didn't show it. He kept scanning the crowd, slow and lazy, like he knew no one would dare touch me or I wouldn't dare to run away.

Two girls about my age walked by, both in swimsuits and denim shorts, laughing at something on a phone. One of them glanced at me, then did a double take. Her gaze flicked from me to the guard and back. She nudged her friend and whispered something. Then, bold enough to step closer, she said, “Hey, um, are you—are you famous or something? What's your IG?” Her tone had that nervous kind of curiosity. “Are you like a singer?”

“She does look like a singer.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The guard stepped in anyway. “Keep walking Chicas,” he said. The girls blinked, “Jeez, sorry,” and moved off. One of them laughed under her breath—“Must be some celebrity”—and they disappeared into the noise of the beach.

I found a shaded spot under a palm and sat down. The sand was warm and soft, giving way under my feet. The guard hovered nearby, pretending to watch the water but keeping me in his peripheral vision. I leaned back, letting the wind push hair into my face, and tried to think. The sea kept rolling in, dragging foam over the sand, repeating itself again and again. It felt hypnotic. If I was going to run, it had to be soon. Before Moretti came back.

Before I lost the nerve.

A sudden shrill came from around me dragging me out of my daydream, definitely not a cell, no one use that kind of ringtone these days. I turned my head, confused. A few feet away was one of those public phone stands, half-glass, half-metal, looking out of place among the umbrellas and beach chairs. The phone inside was off the hook, swinging slightly, the cord twisting in the breeze.

The guard noticed too. “Leave it,” he said, already moving to hang it up. But the ringing didn’t stop, loud and insistent. It felt like it was calling for me, specifically. My stomach tightened. I stepped toward it before he could reach me.

“It’s just ringing,” I said quickly, grabbing the receiver. “Someone must’ve—” I took a deep breath. “Hello, I think the person's gone, so you might want to stop cal—”

The words stuck when I heard the voice on the other end.

“Oh, I know who I was calling, pumpkin.”

I froze. The ice cream slipped a little in my grip and I quickly caught it before it fell flat on the sand.

Enzo?

“How’s the trip?”

“Enzo?” I whispered before I could stop myself.