“Sure,” I said. “Let me get your door.”
I got out and opened her door for her, helping her out of the truck in her modest heels. She wasn’t wobbly drunk, but the sidewalk was cobblestone, and I didn’t want to take any chances on a sprained ankle if I could help it.
We went inside, and she tossed her coat onto a chair.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Make yourself at home. It’s only fair since I did in yours.”
She laughed an adorable laugh as she went into her bedroom and shut the door. She came back a few minutes later in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that was somehow still insanely sexy. Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, she plopped down on the couch.
We talked for a little while, mostly sticking to surface stuff. Neither one of us seemed quite ready to open up about our lives too much yet, but I felt the pull to do so, which kind of weirded me out. It was a compulsion I hadn’t had in a very long time, and this strange woman from New York for some reason got to me and made me want to tell her about myself.
“Well, it’s getting late,” I said, glancing at my phone. “And you’re getting sleepy.”
“No, I’m not,” she yawned.
“Yeah, I think you are,” I said. “But before I go, remember when I gave you my number to text me?”
“Yeah?”
“You texted me back from a blocked number.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I disabled caller ID, and it automatically texts from an email address.”
“Ah,” I said. “Interesting. Well, if you don’t want me to have it, I understand, but I was wondering if I could have your actual number.”
She smiled, hopping up from the couch and grabbing a pen and paper. She scribbled a number on it and brought it to me. We stood just a foot from each other, the heat between us palpable and thick.
“There you go,” she said, her voice low and almost purring.
“Thank you.” There was a moment where we stared at each other briefly, and then I smiled. “Good night.”
I opened the door and headed out, turning once as I reached the bottom of the stairs. She leaned against the door, smiling.
“Good night,” she said. Then, with a wide smile, she closed the door slowly, and I got into my truck to head home.
12
Desiree
The phone was ringing somewhere in the house, but I had no idea where.
Lying down for a nap was probably a bad idea, but the adrenaline of the last few days had finally calmed, and after a heavy dinner of pasta and meat sauce, I lay down for what I thought would be fifteen minutes of blissful post-pasta glory. Considering that the sky outside had gone from somewhat dark to pitch-black, and my entire house was shadows and angles, I guessed I must have slept a bit longer than that.
Flipping the switch to light up the hallway, I had to squint because the light was too bright. As soon as I made it to the living room, I flipped the switch for the two living room lamps that still had the plastic on the lampshades. The living room lit up, and I relaxed a bit, opening my eyes further.
The phone stopped ringing just after I got into the room, which left me searching the cushions for it. I found it after a minute or so, stuffed down under a pillow that I had been dozing against before I made the choice that the bed would be more comfortable. Pulling it out, I saw that there was a missed call, but before I could see who it was, another call was coming in. I recognized the area code as one from New York. Maybe it was Sammi calling from the house. Her parents still had one of those old house phones bolted to the wall in the kitchen. Occasionally, it rang while I was over. They never answered it. I wondered what the point was.
Sliding the button over to answer it, I pressed it against my ear.
“Hello?”
Silence on the other end.
“Hello?” I repeated.
“Hello, Desiree,” a man’s voice said. It was dark and grumbling, menacing in a way that sent icicles into my veins. “You haven’t been easy to get ahold of.”
“Who is this?” I said, trying not to let my voice tremble. “Who are you?”
“You don’t know me,” the voice said. “But your father did. He knew me quite well. Enough that when I pulled the trigger, I saw the look of betrayal in his eyes.” The voice laughed, and I felt dizzy, my heart dropping into my stomach. “He never thought it would be me. The stupid bastard.”
“I know nothing about my father’s business,” I said firmly. “Leave me alone.”
“No,” the man responded. “No amount of pleading is good enough. I made a promise to end your family once and for all. I can’t do that if there are still Giannottis running around. Your bloodline needs to end, piccola ragazza.”