I Told The Stars About You

36. Bonnetti

Alex's point of view:

I stepped into the fancy and old elevator of the hotel under the watchful eye of Chiara.

Should I try to escape? I thought, still aware of the danger that the situation could trigger.

The girl acted normal, putting her hand in the pockets of her formal trousers and looking at me calmly, as if she didn't have a sharp pocket knife in her blazer's pocket.

She delicately pressed a button, number 17, the last floor. Then, she fixed her hair, looking at her reflection in the elevator's mirror.

"Where are we going?" I asked carefully, making her turn around to look at me. She stayed in silence; I was waiting for an answer.

"Hey, I'm asking where we are going." I started feeling irritated. She stayed silent again. That's when I exploded in anger. "CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE. THE FUCK ARE WE GOING?!"

She slammed me violently against the lift mirror. I could even feel the glass cracking slightly.

Quickly, she pulled the knife out of her pocket and threatened me, positioning it so that it grazed the jugular vein of my neck. I knew that if I moved a single inch, I was as good as dead, so I stood still, silent.

Eventually, the lift beeped to indicate that we had reached our destination, the top floor.

The girl, still holding me tightly, put the knife back in her pocket. With one hand, she grabbed the back of my jacket, which, although thick, did not protect me from the cold. Not anymore. The cold sweat running down my body made my skin crawl.

Without speaking, the two of us moved down an empty corridor. Scanning my surroundings, I noticed that there was only one door at the end of the long corridor. Also, there was a large pane of glass from which the city of London could be seen from an abysmal height. Car lights, traffic lights, lamp posts were the only things that illuminated the city, as late at night hardly anyone had their home lights on.

We were getting closer and closer to the mysterious door. "Don't scream," she said, tightening her grip on the collar of my jacket.

She knocked the door, and after some short seconds, it opened. A man, well-dressed in a suit, welcomed Chiara. "Welcome, Miss Bonnetti." Chiara smiled at him before guiding me to the centre of the room.

There was a big window, you could even call it a wall, a glass wall. London could be seen perfectly from there.

There was a fancy armchair facing the landscape, someone sitting on it, but I couldn't figure out who it was, as the only visible part of its body was their hairless head.

"Hello, Alex." A deep voice rang out, and the person rose from the armchair.

Even without seeing his face, I could see the man fix the collar of his shirt, then turn and reveal his face. Alessandro Bonnetti.

"I don't understand, what do you want?" I furrowed and clenched my fists so hard that I was sure I would get marks on my palm afterward.

The man took a sip from his glass of wine, pondering his response.

"Alex, you know what this means, don't you? Cosa nostra." I nodded my head, pinning my gaze to the floor, unable to look the man directly in the eye.

"Cosa nostra," he repeated, then continued. "It's more than... what you think."

"I know," I affirmed. "Then why do you intend to escape?" Alessandro asked, causing me to look up from the floor.

"I'm not part of this, sir. I don't want to." This made both Chiara and him laugh in unison.

"Are you sure?" Chiara pulled out her phone and showed a picture of Leah and me on my front porch. Leah was giving me a hug as she had to leave.

My eyes glazed over. "No, no, no. Not her, please. I'll do anything, but not her, please." My voice suddenly became weak.

"Oh, she's in love!" he joked, making my blood boil.

"Are you? Do you love her?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. I stayed silent for a moment.

"More than anything." I stated, a silent tear rolling down my cheek.

"So, Alex." He left his cup of wine on a small table.

"You, or Leah?"

Author's note:

What do you think Bonnetti means by "You, or Leah?"

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