BUT TOO WELL
A Not-So-Cliché Mafia Romance
by Ami
***
epigraph:
"Speak of me as I am . . . Of one who loved not wisely but too well."
– From Othello by William Shakespeare
•§•
I WAS STARTING to wonder.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining—or at least I wasn't. When your soon-to-be landlord gives you the deal of a lifetime on a perfect two bedroom, I guess you might question it. You might think again. But at that point, I wasn't picky.
Did I notice that he seemed a little surprised when we spoke over the phone? Yes.
Did I hesitate at just how chipper he was as he gave me a tour? A little.
And did I have my doubts as he anxiously watched me sign the papers, an almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaping his mustached mouth after the final initial? Yeah, I did.
Maybe having to agree to a six month trial period without cancellation should have triggered the warning bells, but I really needed a place.
What could be the dirty, sordid secret, you might be wondering? A leaky faucet, noisy street crowds, poor electrical connection?
Nope. It was one hundred and ten percent perfect, or at least it was for the first couple of days.
It was, until I found out that my ridiculously attractive neighbour was probably a psychotic serial murderer.
I guess I should start from the beginning.
•§•
I THINK IT was a Wednesday afternoon, a few days after I moved in. I was loving my new apartment. The cable, water, and other utilities came included in the impossibly affordable rent, and it was fully, tastefully furnished, with state-of-the-art appliances. Being an artist living in Vancouver is not usually this easy.
I took the elevator up to my room on the sixth floor, marveling at the fact that my office was like a five minute walk away, and I had just found the most amazing café on my way to work in the morning.
Clearly, it was perfect. I wish it could've stayed perfect for longer than two days.
I was texting my friend Shauna, who just got over a hard breakup and was in need of emotional support. A pro at the essential art of text-walking, I was completely oblivious to the malevolent, furious storm that I was about to walk right into, one that would completely and irreversibly change my life forever.
That, of course, comes a little later.
First, I crash ungracefully into a hard, immovable object and let out a very articulate "Oof."
Looking up, and feeling a steady, warm set of hands at my arms keeping me in place, I discover the most beautiful face I have ever seen, and my mouth goes dry. Golden skin, thick lashes, dark, messy hair, full lips, a sharp, hard jawline with a rough dust of perfect stubble... and the most incredible pair of sharp brown eyes that pierce, somehow, right into my soul.
YOU ARE READING
But Too Well
عاطفية"His gaze holds mine like a spell, like a dangerous, delirious kind of magic. I swallow, my heart racing, my head filling with panic and confusion and anticipation and an inexplicable, unidentifiable hunger. . ." When Rosalyn Clark moves into her ne...
