Falling For Her Nightmare

Chapter 35: At last

Isaias

"How the hell did she ended up there?" Tristan grumbled.

I had thought that too. I couldn't think of any reason unless she escaped from her captors. I could sense that she was panicking when she talked to me on the phone.

At some point, I'm a little relieved to know that she's safe. I hope.

"Più veloce!" Faster! I snarled at the driver, and the car jerked, picking up speed.

The driver curses in Italian as he swerved here and there, trying to overtake and dodge the slow snail moving cars on our way.

"Do you think she's still waiting at the hotel?" Tristan asked, and I mulled over it. She sounded frantic on the phone. She even hangs up on me, appearing to be in haste.

"Fuck!" I hissed when it dawned on me that she might not be there anymore.

I dialed Logan. He's in the other vehicle shadowing us. Tristan had made some calls, too.

"Search Marsala street and the nearby blocks," I ordered as soon as Logan connected the call.

"Yes, boss!" came his reply.

I ended the call.

Tristan is anxious as I am. He is sitting rigidly with his fingers drumming on his thighs. His watchful eyes glued out the window, like a hawk, searching for his prey.

The trip felt like hours and hours, were in fact, it was only half an hour. Finally, the car stopped. He parked the car right in front of the Hotel de Roma. I opened the door and briskly hopped out. Tristan came out from the other door. I gave him a nod, and he stood in front of the brown brick hotel while I headed inside.

I was greeted by a tall, lean guard. He immediately stood upright when he saw me approaching the double doors. I gave him a curt nod, and I strode straight towards the reception desk.

The young woman behind the counter tore her eyes off the screen and looked up. Her smile broadened as soon as her eyes met mine.

I read her white rectangular nameplate and gave the woman a single nod. Brittany's doe eyes turned dreamy as she stared at me. A kind of stare a lion give to its prey, but with a soft expression, though she looked like she's going to eat me alive.

A hungry look I always get from the opposite sex, and which I always never paid attention.

There's only one woman I wanted to see that look. My only Piccola.

"Come posso aiutarla, signore?" How may I help you, Sir? She squeaked, and she quickly swallowed hard, repeating the question to make sure that she didn't mean to sound like a strangled chick.

Without returning her smile, I spoke. Cold and straight. "Una donna ha usato il telefono quasi un'ora fa. Sai dov'è?" I asked. A woman used your phone almost and an hour ago. Do you know where she is?

Her eyebrows darted together in confusion, her gaze swept over the room then landed on the phone next to the hallway, sitting on the corner counter table.

She looked utterly confused. The hunger in her eyes was gone. Her relaxed shoulders a moment ago are now stiff and straight. The crease in her forehead doubled as her eyebrows drew together tightly, thinking.

"Ha circa 5'6, occhi ametista, snella" She's about 5'6, amethyst eyes, slender with —my hands went to my chest, trying to show her boobs, but abruptly dropped it down to my sides when I realized what I was doing— What Am I thinking? That's my boobies!