𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ✓ [𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄]

✎chapter six × the guilty globetrotter

ʀᴇᴇᴅ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ
ᴇɴʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ
ɴɪᴀ's ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ
━─━────༺༻────━─━

I tap on the console of the car. Feelings of nervousness, irritation, and fear ricochet through me.

  The street lights pass in waves as Angelo drives us along the quiet streets. I have to go back home and, in the morning, explain to Aoife why I need to leave for almost six months.

   Angelo came up with my alibi himself and he is very proud of it.

  I need to go back to New York to help my mom. It makes enough sense to be legitimate since I have told Aoife about my mom's health before.

  When I asked about how I'd pay my half of the rent if I wasn't working, and how I was going to explain my absence to Mrs. Atkins,  Angelo told me not to worry about it.

   It's strange. I don't really know who this man is, or what he's involved in and I don't trust him at all, but I don't question his capabilities or his power.

   As his hand grips the wheel of his sleek Rolls-Royce, I know he's the type who can do a lot of damage without lifting a finger.

"Remember," He speaks suddenly, his deep voice resonating throughout the car. "Ivan will be there to pick you up at six. No later. If you don't go with him, then the deals off."

  "Yeah, I'm aware." I snap.

  We sit in silence for a moment so I decide to fill the air with some music. Leaning forward I fiddle with the radio.

  Angelo looks like he's going to say something and I can tell he doesn't like his radio messed with, but I give him a glare before he can continue.

  He knows he owes me after all the stress he put me through. I finally settle on the station I like. The host yells something in Spanish that fizzled out by static before some high tempo Reggaeton starts to play.

  I grin when Angelo winces at how loud it is. I turn the music up louder and roll my window down, trying to be as obnoxious and annoying as possible.

   He rolls the window back up and locks it like I'm an untrustworthy child. Then he turns the music down.

  "I don't understand how people can listen to this." He mumbles.

I scoff. "What do you listen to, then? Let me guess. Bach? No, Tchaikovsky."

  He laughs. "Yes, actually. But, you could at least listen to something tasteful and culturally vibrant. Like Flamenco."