Page 19 of (UN)Bounded

Once my phone is back in my bag, I look around, and my Bug is nowhere to be seen. A cold chill rises through me, and a wave of panic invades me. Did I park in a prohibited zone?

“Miss Bianchi, we put your car in the garage. We can take you to pick up your brother, or you can take a bigger car from Mr. Godoy’s garage,” Rocco informs me, and I just nod at him. Although they are overstepping yet again, I’m not going to sweat the small things anymore. I can show Gio my car tomorrow.

“Is Aldo here, or are you driving?”

Rocco smiles, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen his pearly whites.

“Aldo is bringing the car around,” Rocco says, and the next thing I know, Aldo is in front of us. I quickly get in the backseat, and Aldo starts driving.

“I’d like to apologize to both of you for my behavior today. I acted like a spoiled little brat, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. You were only doing your job, and I overreacted,” I tell them honestly.

They both look at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, but now that they’re not wearing their sunglasses, I can see their eyes. They’re full of mirth.

“It’s okay, Miss Bianchi. This lifestyle can be overwhelming at first, but rest assured, we’ll do a better job not being seen while still keeping you safe,” Rocco states, and Aldo nods.

We make it to the airport in no time, and by the time I get out of the car, Gio is walking toward Gabo’s hangar.

“Hermanito,” I shout as I run toward my brother, who hugs me.

“Hola, linda. ¿Cómo estás?” (Hey, gorgeous. How are you?) Gio asks, looking at me with those kind eyes, and I simply smile at him. I know how hard it is for him to leave his place these days.

“I’m good. Had a fantastic day today, and now I hope to have a great couple of days with you,” I tell him, and he ruffles my hair as he chuckles at my excitement.

“But tell me, how are you?” I ask him, hoping to hear some good news on his end.

“Same old, same old. But this weekend is not about me; it’s about my amazing sister and all the plans she has for her future.” I know he won’t share any details with me, so I decide not to press and instead enjoy his company.

“Are you hungry? Gabo owns an amazing restaurant downtown. I’m sure he could hook us up if you want to go there,” I ask, and my brother nods at me.

I shoot Gabo a quick text asking him to see if he could make a reservation for us, and he replies immediately.

Gabo: Of course, just tell Aldo to drive you there. The table is already waiting for you. Maybe next week you’d like to go to another restaurant with me? I promise it’s just as good, if not better, than this one.

Isabella: Sure, we’ll talk next week.

I reply with something short and simple since I don’t really have time to think about his change of heart. He couldn’t get away fast enough, and now he wants to take me out? This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.

My brother is looking at me with a kind smile on his face.

“What?” I ask with a chuckle. Sadly, I’m not used to spending time with my older brother anymore.

“Nothing. I’m just here thinking when did you become an adult? I still remember helping you with your homework in middle school.” He chuckles, but I can tell his eyes are full of unshed tears.

“I know, right? Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. Life goes by way too fast.”

“Isn't that the truth? Sometimes I wish we could stop time and live in a beautiful moment for a while, you know?”

He doesn’t need to say it; I know he’s thinking about her: Ruin. The only girl he has ever loved and who vanished without a trace. I wonder if Gio will ever recover from his heartbreak.

We make it to the restaurant in a flash, and sure enough, as Gabo said, the moment we step foot inside, there’s a server waiting for us.

“Before we talk about anything else, I want to tell you why I decided to come here this weekend,” Gio says in his big brother tone.

I take a deep breath, preparing for whatever he says.

“I feel like you’ve been trying to figure out who you are now that you’re done with college, and maybe you’ve been struggling a little bit?”

I know he’s not judging me; he’s just trying to figure out how to say it nicely. I smile at him, encouraging him to continue. What on earth is he talking about, me struggling? I thought I was very clear about my plan for the gallery, but maybe my brothers think I’m not good enough.

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