. . .
Lily Jenkins
I had known this would happen. But the face of death doesn't seem that scary, till it was staring down at you.
A part of me cursed at myself for coming here. But I had not been safe in America, either. This was a gamble. I had made my move.
The constant threats had made me insane, and when the invitation came for the funeral, I knew I had to go. I might have lost the man who wanted to hurt me in America, but I had gained more enemies here.
I looked down at my phone and the last text the man had sent me was there. I will kill you.
I had not taken the threats to heart at first, but then things happened, and it got a lot more real.
Death or death or Dante?
I went to the master bedroom, pulled on some dark blue pants, and threw on a thick coat. I rolled out my suitcases which had been barely unpacked and then walked out of the room, to the quietly glittering living room of the mansion.
Dante sat on a couch, half covered by darkness as he drank whatever was in his shiny glass.
"I see you have chosen to live, after all."
Even if there was no assassin across the street, I was sure the Marchetti would try to kill me. Yes, there was a possibility that Dante was tricking me into this.
But I didn't see many options.
"I don't want you to touch me."
"Si," he said. "I just want you in my house."
This was too simple. But could I risk staying here? And even if I somehow survived the night, going back to America would mean death, too.
He was the only way out.
Living in his house.
It sounded too simple. I knew more details would come. I needed to survive for a while - till the police caught the man back home.
Then, I could go back.
I could have gone to any other country - but he would have followed me anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
No Creed could come to Italy.
. . .
I sat down, put on the seat belt, and he started the car.
I felt his eyes on me. I didn't look at him.
"I'm still convinced you can keep them off my back without making me go with you."
"There has been a red dot on your head for the past hour," he said. "I am many things, Blue. But, I am not a liar."
My hands gripped the seat belt, and I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying anything which could cost me my life.
He didn't speak for the rest of the ride, which was nearly twenty minutes.
Soon, we were slowing down in front of a medium-sized, insanely beautiful house surrounded by a thick layer of trees. A large building was right beside the house and it opened as the car drove closer. Almost fifty cars were inside, lit up with dimmed white lights.
He parked. I stayed still, my heart thundering in my chest. Nervousness and fear were bubbling inside of me. I didn't want to get out of the car.
He got out and opened my door. I stared at the dashboard.
"Lily," he said. "Get out."
"Can I sleep here?"
"No."
I looked at him. "I am not sleeping with you."
"Okay," he said. "You will sleep in the guestroom."
"What is up with you?" I covered my face with my hand. "You say you want me in your bed and then you say I am going to sleep in the guestroom - is this some mafia mind trick?"
"Mafia mind trick?" I could hear the amusement in his deep voice. "Get out, Blue. I am not above grabbing you."
I doubt you are above most things.
I got out of the car and he closed the door. I looked up at him. He leaned against his car, folding his arms against his chest. "Stop looking at me like that, Blue. I am not going to attack you."
I didn't say anything. Breathing was hard, and I hated sounding weak.
We didn't say anything for the rest of the night.
There was no danger across the street anymore.
It was in the room across the hall.
. . .
(5/6)
