Page 35 of Die for You

Vomit rises for another reason this time.

“Get close to him, learn his secrets, and then…you kill him. Once this is done, Gianna can come back to Italy, and you may choose what life you want to live.”

I’m taken aback as I never thought this option was on the cards. But it seems Gianna is giving me a choice.

But I don’t have a choice.

I will do what I must to protect Lettie. And to do that…Enzo must die.

The sooner I succeed, the sooner I can leave this life behind.

I do this for my daughter.

I do this for myself.

“Where can I find him?”

“I will send you the details. Perhaps you should go shopping and buy something”—he looks me up and down, unimpressed with my attire—“nice.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but I nod instead.

Without anything further to say, I make my way back to Nico, my mind racing. When he sees me, he gives me a bouquet of wildflowers.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve any of this.

But as I realized, there are two of me, and this Valentina simply smiles.

The other me, however, claws at the confines of my chest, screaming to get out because blood will be spilled by my hands once again.

And only then…will I be free.

Nico and I are sitting at the dinner table, the radio humming low in the background.

I made meatloaf and a huge serving of the different produce we purchased at the market. The cannoli Nico bought looks delicious, but my appetite is shot.

I can’t stop thinking about today’s encounter with Vince.

I am pleased I finally have direction, but Gianna made clear I am to be Enzo’s mistress so to speak. I am to do whatever it takes to get close to him. The thought makes me feel sick.

But his death brings me freedom.

What choice is there?

The flowers Nico bought me sit in a crystal vase in the middle of the table. Such a sweet gesture, one I don’t deserve, seeing as I’m strategizing the quickest way to do what Gianna wants.

Nico reaches into his pocket, and I’m surprised to see a cell. He types something and holds the phone out to me.

I soon hear a robotic voice say, “The cannoli is sorry.”

Pursing my lips in confusion, I look down at my plate and see I have massacred the ricotta.

A laugh escapes me.

It seems Nico purchased a phone from the market today. It’s an older phone, but it has a translation app on it. Nico doesn’t seem like the type of guy who has socials, so I wonder if he got this for me.

The thought touches me.

I gesture for him to pass me the phone.