Page 7 of Die for You (Kiss or Kill #2)

However, I think about Bria and Lenny together and how he didn’t seem to feel guilty for making me watch him with another woman, a woman who I know has feelings for him. The memory still burns, and I wonder if they’re now a thing.

Gianna did kill Bria’s father and Lenny’s mentor, so the need for revenge will bond them. It’ll have them depending on each other and existing in their own little world. I should know because once upon a time, I was a part of Lenny’s world.

Now, we are worlds apart.

The ride into town takes about thirty minutes. I try my best to remember all the important landmarks because this is the first and last time I’ll rely on anyone. Nico turns a corner, and when we arrive at a street market, I wonder if perhaps we’re lost.

But when he finds a spot to park and kills the motor, I realize we’re here.

The sight before me is that of a vibrant street market.

The backdrop is the main street. It’s lined with old white buildings that appear to be three-story apartments.

The occupants are out on their balconies, sipping a glass of wine or smoking a cigarette over the balustrade, taking in the bustle below.

Vendors are spread out as far as the eye can see, their striped umbrellas a burst of color and fun. The stalls sell every fresh produce you could ever want, as well as clothes and ornaments. The smells are a blend of spicy and sweet.

I cautiously get off the bike. My legs resemble jelly as my feet touch the ground. I take off the helmet and unfasten my ponytail to shake out my hair. Once I’m done, I pass the helmet to Nico, who I notice is staring.

I have no idea why, but I ignore him because I only have twenty minutes to find the elusive Madam Gazella in the sea of people.

With no time to waste, I quickly enter the bustling street and decide to walk up and down it. Surely whoever I’m meeting will stand out in some way.

The lively market is filled with excited patrons who sample local food and explore this culture-rich place. I don’t realize Nico has followed me until he reaches for my hand.

I stop dead in my tracks and peer down at our union, then back at him.

“ Venire .”

He yanks on my hand and leads me through the throngs of people. It appears he knows where he’s going, which sets off alarm bells. Maybe he is involved after all?

I can deal with the aftermath later because this is one of Gianna’s tests. If I fail, I know she won’t be happy.

Fairy lights line the street and are entangled around the poles of the stalls, setting a romantic mood. A colorful artwork of umbrellas turned upside down hangs on strings coiled between two buildings. Everything is magical.

But with each minute passing, I can’t help but feel claustrophobic. My stomach begins to churn, and I feel vomit rising.

No, not now. I beg my body to withstand this test, and I promise to treat it better come morning. But for now, I just need to find Madam Gazella.

And when we turn a corner and venture down a section which isn’t as busy as the rest, it seems I was right. Nico does know who she is. Just not in the way I thought.

Ahead is a blue tent with a third eye and a crystal ball printed on the side. And in gold letters is the name Madam Gazella.

Is this some sort of joke?

Gianna wants me to see a fortune teller?

I let go of Nico’s hand and signal to him that I won’t be long.

He nods and doesn’t question why I have a meeting with the town’s clairvoyant. He reaches into his back pocket for his wallet and offers me a fifty. I want to wave him off, but I’m not sure what to expect when going into the tent.

So I accept. “I’ll pay you back.”

He smiles and leaves me to face the unknown.

As the clock tower chimes eight times, I enter the tent and am greeted with a black velvet curtain.

A bottle of disinfectant spray sits on a small wooden table, accompanied by handwritten instructions in Italian with English translations underneath.

It requests that those entering disinfect the soles of their shoes and their hands before proceeding beyond the black curtain.

I do as the sign asks.

Once I’m done, I part the curtain and am greeted by an elderly woman sitting at a round table. A stack of worn tarot cards and a crystal ball sit in front of her. She wears a silk scarf around her head, but wisps of gray hair peek through.

It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes because this hocus pocus stuff is nothing but a fraud to con people out of their money. But I smile and enter.

She points at the chair opposite her.

I sit and wait, unsure of what to expect.

I notice the large gold crucifix around her neck and the evil eye bracelet she wears. It smells of incense in here, the type used at Mass. Memories of Father Merry arise, but I push them aside.

She reaches across the table and takes my hands. Peering down at the union, I look at the contrast of our hands. Hers are weathered while mine are infant. Each line represents a life event that happened to her, denoting the life she lived.

I wonder what mine will look like when I reach Madam Gazella’s age. Or the better question is, if.

She closes her eyes and appears to concentrate as she rubs her thumb across the back of my hand.

Soon, Italian spills from her, and I frown, disappointed because I don’t understand a word.

Just as I’m about to speak, she opens her eyes and stares at me. “You’ve been brought here for change. And that change must come through death.”

I understand her broken English just fine, so I don’t question if I heard her correctly.

“Enzo Cattaneo is who you must conquer to succeed.”

I recognize the surname immediately.

This is a relation to Aldo.

Madam Gazella lets go of my hands and reaches under the table to produce a cell. She slides it across the table to me. “There is a number programmed. Call it tomorrow. He will tell you what to do.”

And that’s it.

I wait for more, but Madam Gazella nods, hinting our meeting is over. I wonder what role she plays in all this. She only seems to be the messenger.

I don’t ask any questions because Gianna taught me better than that.

Reaching into the pocket of my dress, I produce the fifty euro.

She accepts.

I go to stand, but she grips my wrist and turns my hand over. She appears to be reading my palm. I humor her because I am a non-believer, but what she says next turns my stomach.

“A lifelong commitment.”

I arch a brow, confused. “Pardon?”

“The sickness you feel, it’s the commitment. Bambina .”

The blood drains from my body because I know what that word means.

But that’s not possible.

She’s wrong.

Snatching my hand away, I shake my head. “No, you’re wrong.”

But Madam Gazella stands firm. “ Una ragazzina . Un miracolo .”

Again, I know what she’s saying, but I refuse to believe it.

“Thank you,” I blurt out before running from the tent.

The moment I’m outside, I bend in half, and with hands on my knees, I take three deep breaths to calm myself.

It doesn’t help.

There is no way she’s right. She’s a fortune teller reading palms at a flea market, for fuck’s sake. She’s wrong.

My mind is racing, and there’s only one way to settle that.

I quickly make my way through the patrons who are casually browsing. Must be nice not to have a care in the world. When I see the stall I need up ahead, I realize I gave all the money I have to Madam Gazella.

But this is an emergency.

Thankfully, the store clerk is busy serving a group of tourists who all wear I LOVE ITALY T-shirts. I wish I could share the sentiment.

When I see what I’m looking for, I subtly peer around to ensure no one is looking, and with skills only a criminal possesses, I swipe the product swiftly and walk away. I feel awful for stealing and make note of the store name on the tent. I will return to repay them when I can think straight.

Thankfully, the bathrooms are ahead, and I practically run to them. Once inside the small cubicle, I do my thing and wait.

“She’s wrong,” I whisper over and over.

I sit on the toilet, holding something in my hand which may as well be a grenade, and when it changes before my eyes, I go numb.

It seems Madam Gazella isn’t a bogus fortune teller, after all, because she was right.

“The sickness you feel, it’s the commitment. Bambina .”

And that commitment will change everything, and that’s because…I’m pregnant.