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When he doesn’t respond, I storm into the house in search of my phone. I dial Enzo’s number, and it goes straight to voicemail.
I try again and again, then remember the sun’s barely risen yet, and normal people might still be sleeping.
“Tiny,” Uncle Luigi calls, coming up behind me. “I’m with you on this.”
“You are?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes. Cavalli might be the only way out of this, although your father will hate it. I’ll talk to Lev and explain everything, but you might have to sit down with him one-on-one and finally address this issue soon.”
I nod, knowing that he’s right but too grateful to say anything else. My phone rings and Enzo’s name flashes across the screen.
“Enzo?” I gasp, answering immediately. Mussorgsky’s somber tones float through the speaker, and I scream in frustration.
I’m really starting to hate that fucking song.
I hang up and call right back, but a series of beeps and clicks are the only thing I hear.Okay, okay, I get it. You little bitches tapped my phone.
“I need to go see him,” I finally tell Luigi, shoving my useless phone in my pocket. “I’ll catch him at his office after I meet with the designers at the complex.”
“Be careful, will you?” he warns, giving me a light kiss on the forehead.
With a nod, I run upstairs to get ready for my meeting with the designer, but not before I shed a few tears at Luigi’s faith in me.
My meeting with the designers takes so long that the sky is already darkening as I step out of the complex. I scan the parking lot quickly—my new habit—and jog to my car.
Wanting to avoid Enzo’s apartment and the memories it holds, I speed through the hazy twilight to his office.
After getting lost a few times in the maze of one-way streets around his building, I finally find the parking garage entrance and head into the lobby. The clerk lets me know the Romano offices are on the top floor, and I sign in using a fake name, just in case.
My fingers drum restlessly against my thigh during the endless elevator ride to the top. I have no idea how he’s going to react to seeing me again.
He’s been calling every day, but I did storm out of his apartment like an asshole when he was just trying to help. I lean into the mirror, checking my lip gloss and fluffing up my hair a bit.
The doors finally slide open, and I slip into a cozy little waiting room. A large empty desk sits against one wall while comfortable sofas line the other.
Not knowing what to do, I sink into one of the sofas and hope someone emerges from the huge, imposing doors behind the desk.
I’m too nervous to even touch my phone, so I busy myself with inspecting every inch of the reception area. It’s bland, verybeige, and not what I’d ever imagined for Enzo, but I guess it’s just a front anyway. Finally, a woman bustles out.
“Oh, did you have an appointment?” she asks, tugging her glasses down her nose.
“No, I just need to see Enzo,” I answer, peeling myself off the sofa. “Is he here?”
“Afraid you just missed him,” she says. “Would you like to leave a message?”
“No, that’s fine.” I sigh, heading to the elevator.This was a stupid idea—a waste of time, really.
I ride the elevator down feeling less nervous and more exhausted. I trudge through the parking garage, dialing Enzo once more, hoping it’ll connect. The clicks and beeps come through the line again, and I groan, shoving my phone into my purse.
A flash of red catches my attention, and I squint into the distance, trying to figure out what I’m seeing. A dark figure with long, shiny red hair stands near my car, seemingly unaware of my presence.
“Hey!” I call, confused. “What are you doing?”
The woman turns her head slightly—not enough for me to catch a good look at her face—and bolts. I take off after her, but come to a standstill when I reach my car.
She fucking slashed my tires! All four of them!
“Enough of this shit,” I growl, sprinting after the figure.