and a hundred things I couldn’t name, and I didn’t have anyone to blame except myself.
I tossed my half-eaten box of Chinese takeout into the trash and tucked my purse under my arm. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Tony stood up, and I waved him away. “You don’t need to come with me.”
Tony’s hand curled around my shoulder. “You can’t go anywhere alone. Gian won’t like it.”
I whirled around and cocked one eyebrow. “I don’t care what Gian does or doesn’t like. I don’t work for him. He doesn’t need to keep tabs on me.”
I was suffocating on my loneliness. A few more days of this and I’d start talking to random people on the street or myself. I’d walked away from Kevin’s cheating ass, and nothing had improved. Now, I’d become Gian’s pseudo fiancée, which in his world was code for prisoner. I couldn’t eat, breathe, or sleep without an escort.
Tony sucked in his lips, making his beak-like nose more prominent. “You told him you were in for the night.”
I shrugged. “So? What’s your point? It’s not like he’s rushing home to hang out with me.”
“He’s busy,” he growled.
“Whatever. If it’s a problem, call Gian and tell him I’m going out again.”
His eyes narrowed. “Even if he agrees, you still can’t go anywhere by yourself.”
“Right. I forgot. I’m a prisoner.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you call your boss while I go to the bathroom and get ready?”
Not waiting for a response, I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Unlike the place where I lived with Kevin, Gian’s three-story brownstone hadn’t been chopped up into multiple residences. The main floor consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and a powder room. The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor was one large master suite inhabited by Gian, or at least, that was what he told me during my five-minute tour the night I moved into his house. I’d never seen it. He also had a coveted two-car garage on the garden level.
Five monster steps on the striated porcelain tile and I stood in front of the double-hung window. I pried it open, climbed onto the top of the toilet, and stuck one boot-clad foot out the window and then the other. I dangled from the sill for a moment, the pulse in my neck pumping hard, the suede toes of my boots scraping against the weatherworn brick. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and uncurled my fingers. Three feet felt like ten as I whooshed through the air, landing ungracefully on the bluestone patio. A lightning fast jab shot up my weak ankle.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered.
I scrambled to my feet. The wind howled in my ears, and my hair lashed the sides of my face. A red candy bar wrapper tumbled over the tips of my shoes. I scanned the shadows, searching for any witnesses, and listening for footsteps or voices. I didn’t see or hear anyone.
With my back pressed to the building, I crept around the corner, my hair snagging on the roughened brick. The second I reached the tree-lined street, I took off in a full-blown sprint.
One block.
My ankle burned.
Two blocks.
The narrow buildings blurred into a kaleidoscope of brick, surprised faces, and gleaming yellow lights. I collided with elbows, shoulders, purses, and chests, not bothering to make any apologies. I just kept running. Needing space. Needing freedom.
Three blocks.
My feet pounded on a metal sidewalk cellar door, and mini-booms echoed through my ears.
Four blocks.
My lungs burned like I’d swallowed a mouthful of lava. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so out of shape. For as long as I could remember, I spent every waking hour dancing. A year of doing nothing had changed me into a wind-sucking weakling.
Five blocks.
My purse pounded against my back.
Six blocks.
I couldn’t take another step.
I paused, my chest heaving like a faulty life vest with a gaping hole. Screw this. I ripped the phone from the side
I tossed my half-eaten box of Chinese takeout into the trash and tucked my purse under my arm. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Tony stood up, and I waved him away. “You don’t need to come with me.”
Tony’s hand curled around my shoulder. “You can’t go anywhere alone. Gian won’t like it.”
I whirled around and cocked one eyebrow. “I don’t care what Gian does or doesn’t like. I don’t work for him. He doesn’t need to keep tabs on me.”
I was suffocating on my loneliness. A few more days of this and I’d start talking to random people on the street or myself. I’d walked away from Kevin’s cheating ass, and nothing had improved. Now, I’d become Gian’s pseudo fiancée, which in his world was code for prisoner. I couldn’t eat, breathe, or sleep without an escort.
Tony sucked in his lips, making his beak-like nose more prominent. “You told him you were in for the night.”
I shrugged. “So? What’s your point? It’s not like he’s rushing home to hang out with me.”
“He’s busy,” he growled.
“Whatever. If it’s a problem, call Gian and tell him I’m going out again.”
His eyes narrowed. “Even if he agrees, you still can’t go anywhere by yourself.”
“Right. I forgot. I’m a prisoner.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you call your boss while I go to the bathroom and get ready?”
Not waiting for a response, I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Unlike the place where I lived with Kevin, Gian’s three-story brownstone hadn’t been chopped up into multiple residences. The main floor consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and a powder room. The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor was one large master suite inhabited by Gian, or at least, that was what he told me during my five-minute tour the night I moved into his house. I’d never seen it. He also had a coveted two-car garage on the garden level.
Five monster steps on the striated porcelain tile and I stood in front of the double-hung window. I pried it open, climbed onto the top of the toilet, and stuck one boot-clad foot out the window and then the other. I dangled from the sill for a moment, the pulse in my neck pumping hard, the suede toes of my boots scraping against the weatherworn brick. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and uncurled my fingers. Three feet felt like ten as I whooshed through the air, landing ungracefully on the bluestone patio. A lightning fast jab shot up my weak ankle.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered.
I scrambled to my feet. The wind howled in my ears, and my hair lashed the sides of my face. A red candy bar wrapper tumbled over the tips of my shoes. I scanned the shadows, searching for any witnesses, and listening for footsteps or voices. I didn’t see or hear anyone.
With my back pressed to the building, I crept around the corner, my hair snagging on the roughened brick. The second I reached the tree-lined street, I took off in a full-blown sprint.
One block.
My ankle burned.
Two blocks.
The narrow buildings blurred into a kaleidoscope of brick, surprised faces, and gleaming yellow lights. I collided with elbows, shoulders, purses, and chests, not bothering to make any apologies. I just kept running. Needing space. Needing freedom.
Three blocks.
My feet pounded on a metal sidewalk cellar door, and mini-booms echoed through my ears.
Four blocks.
My lungs burned like I’d swallowed a mouthful of lava. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so out of shape. For as long as I could remember, I spent every waking hour dancing. A year of doing nothing had changed me into a wind-sucking weakling.
Five blocks.
My purse pounded against my back.
Six blocks.
I couldn’t take another step.
I paused, my chest heaving like a faulty life vest with a gaping hole. Screw this. I ripped the phone from the side
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