Page 22 of Die for You

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 whatthatword 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.