Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
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I didn't sleep a wink last night, not even once. Too many thoughts swarmed my head and I was too nervous to do the simple act of just sleeping.
I had spent most of the night sitting on the couch, looking at the ceiling and not doing anything but think.
How did all this happen?
When did this start?
How long has this been going on?
Is Harlan really obsessed with me?
How do so many people know him?
What else does this red-eyed monster hide?
When dawn neared, I had forcefully pushed myself off the couch to take a painkiller for the headache I had from my mind running a hundred miles per second and went to my bedroom, searching for the box of medicine in my drawers when I stumbled upon another box.
Frowning, I opened it up to see cards and notes I had saved up from over the last two or so years. Picking up the first one, I read it and reached for my phone, putting the sentence into the translator app and when it changed to English, I froze.
'Sei bellissima, farfalla.'
It meant, 'you look beautiful, butterfly'. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed thickly, knowing there was only one man I knew who could say this to me— Harlan.
I picked up another card and translated it, the Italian words from over the years buzzing in my head like a lost memory I couldn't recover when I frowned and clutched my aching head, trying to remember when and how I got these, and at what occasions as my hands started to shake.
The fact that I had no memory whatsoever of receiving more than half of these notes made my blood run cold and throat run dry. I knew something was seriously wrong, and I had to get to the bottom of it before I found myself in any other problems.
Finding the pills, I popped two into my mouth and waited for it to work as I brewed myself some coffee and chose a book from my shelf.
Grabbing the steaming coffee and sitting down in the window seat, I placed the book in my lap, taking a sip of my drink and looked outside the widow at the sky that was starting to lighten.
I read my book for the next two hours or so and closed it when my head felt heavy and stood up from my place just as my phone started to ring.
Without glancing at the screen, I picked it up and put it to my ear, waiting for a response from the other end.
"Azzy." I heard the male voice speak and I sat up straighter on instinct, my heart beating faster as I took the phone away from my ear to glance at the caller's name, twice, before putting it back up to my ear as my breath caught in my throat and I tried to say something.
