Untangle Me

Chapter 36

Andrea

"I have one question," Giada says, turning serious even though we were laughing about a man that got publicly turned down when he proposed to his girlfriend.

Call us bad people for thinking that's funny, I don't really care. Not as long as Giada keeps smiling.

Which she isn't right now and it's making me nervous. This is where we get to the actual reason for this dinner, isn't it? Because as much as I'd like to pretend this is just a date, it's not. It's about us figuring things out which, for the worse or the better, includes talking about what went down.

"Well, I have more than one but I'd really like to start with this," the woman sitting opposite me adds hastily.

And my dumbass brain somehow thinks this is the most adorable thing ever. I love it when Giada rambles, sue me. Always have, probably always will. But it's more than that. The part that's really getting me now is the way she's swimming in my jacket.

She has it tightly wrapped around herself like it has been for the whole duration of this dinner. The long sleeves kept rolling over her hands, causing her to curse like an Italian grandpa playing cards. You'd never pin her for someone with such a foul mouth which makes it that much funnier.

What I'm about to say next is going to sound really bad, I know that and I'm ignoring it. The thing is, seeing her in my clothes kind of reminds me of old times. So no matter how great she looked in the dress she picked for tonight, seeing her getting comfortable in my stuff hits different.

"Fire ahead," I encourage her, trying to get back on topic.

"Right. So, when," she breaks off and swallows once. It sets me more on edge, diminishing all other distractions. What's about to come next is obviously hard for her to talk about. "When Luciano and I were in that warehouse, he told me a story."

Here we go.

"Yes," I say, waiting for her to go on.

"He said you were responsible for his family's death, I think. Everything about that day is kind of a blur but I think that's what he said. Before, he had already told me about his siblings and grandmother so I was just wondering," she says though her words sound more like a question than anything else.

I take a deep breath so I don't lose my cool over this. The amount of times I had to tell this tale to different people is ridiculous but whatever. Giada wants to know so she'll know.

"I'd like to start off by telling you I didn't kill his family, nor did I have it ordered. The people that killed them were clan members of a woman Dante tortured, sloppily and against protocol, might I add, in the very warehouse he took you. He topped the whole misstep by accidentally killing her and finally, not taking care of the body.

"He practically had his signature written all over it and still, his mind twisted the story enough for him to blame me." By the time I'm finished, Giada looks like she's going to be sick.

Her face is ashen, almost tinted green, and her eyes slightly widened as she looks at me. As the silence stretches on, she nods to herself and swallows heavily.

"Why did he torture her?" she then asks, almost whispering while her eyes scan the room around us for eavesdroppers.

My stomach is in knots at the sight but it takes me a while to realize it's because I'm worried about her. It's not pity like I first assumed.

"You don't need to know that, Giada. We can talk about something else," I say, attempting to soften my voice.

Fuck but if I could, I'd drag Dante back from hell only to kill him again for what he put Giada through. For the way her eyes still look so haunted.

Thoughts so dark are unusual for me but for once, I don't recoil. We all know the psychopath would have deserved more than what he got so what if I announce myself his karma?

Meh, I'll have time to deal with him once the Parcae cut my thread. Until then, I'll deal with my own slice of hell by keeping this conversation going instead of wrapping Giada up and taking her home until she stopped shivering.

(Parcae= name for the Fates in Roman mythology)

She looks about as fragile as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Of course, just like the Tower, she is much stronger than she looks but as a witness, it's still scary.

"Well, Dante had always been a twisted man. Maybe you can blame it on his upbringing. Not sure what he told you but his father was an abusive man of the worst kind, hurting his mother in front of him on a daily.

"My father certainly fuelled that twisted flame within him when he let him tag along with his, let's call it interrogator, at the time. Dante was still a teenager back then," I trail off, watching Giada's reaction though there's not much to see. She's mostly staring at me, blinking every now and then.

"Why, Andrea?" she pushes hoarsely. I bite my tongue.

"He needed help for a long time but instead of getting him that, I used him for my dirty work. I'm not proud to admit that but I can't deny it. He had been in constant contact with the worst sort of violence for all his life and somewhere along the way, it became his comfort.

"He started to crave it. Need it, even. And I allowed him to take what he needed whenever I had someone to get information from. But that woman was different. He was supposed to deliver her to me perfectly intact. Hell, we had an appointment.

"I made the mistake of giving him the task of fetching her but it was an attempt to remind him there isn't only violence. As to why he did what he did, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe he got the sudden urge to hurt, ruin, something and she was the closest person to use."

"So he enjoyed hurting her?" she asks. I don't reply. We both know the answer to that and I get the feeling there are some unspoken words hanging in the air between us. "He enjoyed hurting me."

Her words punch me in the gut, awaking some carefully suppressed rage but I'm saved from trying to cheer her up with futile words when our server appears at our table out of nowhere.  "Any dessert?" the perky teenager asks, showing off his braces as he smiles, oblivious to the thick atmosphere around him.

Giada seems to come back to herself a little now that we're no longer alone, trapped in our depressing little bubble. She even attempts a weak smile that is anything but convincing.

"I'm good, thanks," she tells him. Understandable if she's even half as sick as she looks.

"Sir? Anything for you?" he asks me.

I shrug, directing my question at Giada. "How about a Limoncello?" I propose. She looks like she could use a drink and it's good for your stomach.

Or so they teach you in Italy, who the hell knows.

"Do you have Grappa?" she asks the waiter instead. He nods quickly reciting a few different brands they've got. I order a glass for each of us and the young man leaves.

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Things are starting to take off... I have a scene planned for some time soon and already can't wait to hear u guy's reaction to it:))

Have a great day<3