In the gritty streets of a dark and unforgiving city, a timid, insecure, and broken girl finds herself trapped in an abusive environment. Just when all hope seems lost, fate intervenes, and she crosses paths with a mysterious mafia man. Together, th...
"Where's Matteo?" "Let me check on him," Enzo answers.
After a few minutes of waiting by the door, we saw them coming out of the room I was in.
Matteo's mood seems different from when I was with him.
I wonder what happened...
"Here's your phone, Aaliyah," Matteo says, handing over my phone. "Thank you..." I say, trying to remember how I left it.
"Let's go," Isabella says, and we start walking out of the hospital.
I hate the fact that they all know what happened to me. It just doesn't sit right with me.
"You're coming with me," Matteo says. I'm a bit confused, but I then see Enzo and Isabella going in one car and Angelo and Anaya going in another.
"Why are we all taking different cars?" I ask. "We all came in different cars," "I thought you guys all lived together," I say, confused.
"We do. We just came with different cars," We reach his car and gosh, it's beautiful.
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It's a matte black Lamborghini.
Once we're inside, I ask the question that has been on my mind since he came out of the hospital room.
"Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?" He turns his head and looks at me.
"You didn't do anything wrong, I'm ok," I know he's lying. There's something on his mind. "Then what's on your mind?" I ask "It's something work-related, don't worry about it," he says, and I reply with a nod.
He starts the car and drives off. The others had already started leaving, and we were the last to leave.
"This isn't the way to my house," I tell him when I see him going. I don't even know where.
"I know, you're coming with me. You're going to stay with us until we leave. Anaya's already told her parents," he tells me.
"But we can't. I don't even have my clothes or any of my stuff," I tell him.
"Don't worry about it, amore," he tells me, and I feel my cheeks turning pink from the nickname.
I've read too many books to not know what it means.
"You're Italian?" I ask, mentally slapping myself.
Of course he's Italian, why else would we be going to Italy?
"Yeah," he says with a chuckle. He probably noticed my stupidity.
After a few more minutes of driving, we finally reach wherever I'm going to be staying, I guess.
I see the others leaving their cars, so I unbuckled my seatbelt, but I dropped my phone somewhere.
