Page 17 of Frayed Bonds

“I know that I agreed, but what if we just stay in instead?” I plead, jutting out my bottom lip.

“Reservations have been made already, Val. Besides, you've been cooped up inside for the last few days with absolutely no contact with the outside world.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“I’ve had contact with the outside world.”

“Running into Antonio doesn’t count.” I open my mouth to interrupt, but she cuts me off. “No Vitales count,” Natalia continued.

Rolling my eyes, I slowly slide off my seat. She’s right. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I'd fallen into a deep spiral. The news of my father’s medical coverage and that very suspicious note were enough to trigger it. A mixture of paranoia and fear of my mortality slowly crept in. Intrusive thoughts had me on edge the entire night, and I barely got any sleep.

Not to mention the thought that there was a slight chance that it was Mattheo who slipped that note into my laptop bag, I'd be foolish to not think there was a possibility that he was here in Tevici. Possibly in my house.

And of course, the realisation that I'll be working for all the brothers, specifically Ambrose, by next week.

“Put your best dress on, the place is fancy!” Natalia yells after me as I ascend the stairs.

“My best dress?” I mumble to myself. I wouldn’t know what that looked like if it smacked me in the face.

My eyes scan the entirety of my closet, which isn’t much. I decided to unpack at 2 a.m. this morning when I woke up breathless on a sweat-soaked pillow. No reason to leave things in bags since I’ll be here for a while, might as well get comfortable.

I settle on a short pink dress—its main fabric a silk chiffon, graced with a pink floral applique line. I bought it for the exhibition of my debut painting but never ended up wearing it because Mattheo said it would draw attention away from the actual art.

I scoff to myself, I was such an idiot for believing everything that asshole said. It was one of the biggest nights in my career and I let him talk me out of shining.

“Val.” Natalia's voice makes me jump. She eyes me worriedly. “Everything okay? Are you ready to go?” She asks.

I nod quickly slip on matching pink heels and follow her downstairs

“So, which restaurant are we going to?” I ask as we get into the cab.

"Scala," Natalia says, looking over at me.

“Can’t we go anywhere that’s not owned by the Vitales?” I sigh, “I think I’ve seen them enough for one week.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Unless you can afford to fly to another country, then no. They own everything.”

Deep down I know that she’s right, it's foolish to think we could go anywhere in Tevici without running into something owned by the Vitales’. Honestly, that isn't what bothers me much, it’s the fact that they always happen to be at all of those places.

As we arrive outside of Scala, I immediately notice a black G-Wagon. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I wish I hadn't noticed it at all. It could be anyone one of them, hell, it could be anyone. But, the thought that it might be Ambrose has my body feeling like someone has thrown cold water all over me.

I run my hands over the goosebumps that cover my arms hoping they’ll disappear. As we enter the restaurant, I look around at how beautifully it's decorated. Whichever brother is in charge of this place is doing an amazing job. The delicious aroma of food is enough to have anyone drooling as they step through the door.

Natalia thanks the hostess as she walks off after directing us to our table.

“This place is amazing, it makes all the places in Paris look like a dump.” I sigh, as I continue to look around, my eyes glancing over the menu as well.

I immediately notice the names of two of Italy's top chefs, and let out a gasp knowing I'll finally get to try meals created by them.

“I’m sure Paris has places just as stunning,” Natalia smiles

She knows I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than go back to Paris anytime soon. Everything in that city reminds me of Mattheo and I'd rather not have a panic attack if I can avoid it. Easier said than done when the thought alone had my head swirling with memories of the note.

“Speaking of Paris, since you aren’t heading back anytime soon, are you getting a job?” she asks, looking up at me over her menu.

“I may, or may not, be starting as Ambrose's assistant on Monday.” I shrug while still scanning the menu.

A young blonde waitress walks over and asks if we’re having anything to drink. The interruption provides enough of a distraction for me to think of what I'm possibly going to say next.

“Can we get two Negroni Sbagliato's please?” Natalia orders for us.

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