Page 23 of Malevolent Secrets

I push my salad away and bite into the wrap, instantly feeling better when I taste the fresh ingredients. I admit to myself that having a friend to talk to might help me process everything that’s happened. I just can’t tell her about Lorenzo, however. It would put her in danger.

I listen as she talks about her work and her frustrations. I had completely forgotten how nice human interactions could be when they didn’t involve the words, “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

For the rest of the afternoon, I throw myself into work, trying to drown out the noise in my head.

When seven rolls around, I meet Renee at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from our office. The warm lighting and the rich aroma of garlic and herbs are comforting.

We order our meals and once the waiter leaves, Renee leans in.

“Did you pick this place because I’m Italian?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“Oh God no, I’m Italian too, you know. I come here when I’m missing my mom’s food.”

“It’s all right, I was kidding.”

She laughs and I relax.

“Isn’t Renee a French name?”

“It is. My mom was French, and my dad was Italian.”

I nod. “No wonder you have such good genes.” My phone pings beside me and it’s a text from an unknown number.

I want to see you tonight.

Even though it’s just words on the screen, I can hear his voice so clearly. He makes commands sound so good.

“What’s going on, Dani? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I take a deep breath and shake my head. If only she knew how accurate her statement was.

“It’s nothing. I just have to respond to this text.” I pick up the phone and my fingers hover over the keyboard. What should I say? How did you get my number? Who’s this? Sorry, I can’t because I’m terrified of what you’ll do to me when you find out who I am?

Why the hell did I actually believe that I could have any sort of edge over Lorenzo Duretti? This is the man who is rumored to eat children for dinner. Whatever I say, it has to sound confident. I can’t look weak in front of him. People like him thrive on weakness; they feed off it.

Tomorrow at the club? I text back and drop the phone back on the table.

“Boy problems?” Renee asks and I immediately grimace. “Shit, I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. And you’re right. It is a boy problem.”

She smiles at me softly, and I sigh. I don’t know why I feel like I can trust her, like she won’t judge me or think I’m trashy for sleeping with someone else a month after my fiancé died.

“I met him at The Garden of Eden,” I say, and her eyes fly up to meet mine.

“You went to The Garden of Eden?”

“Yeah, that’s actually why I couldn’t talk the night you called. I was with him.”

“And? Girl, you can’t tell me that and nothing else. Full details please.”

“I don’t know Renee. It’s not a roses and sunshine story and I don’t want you getting involved in stuff that I know is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Her eyes widen. “I thought you were going to tell me about a one-night stand.”

“It was a one-night stand, but it was with someone I shouldn’t have slept with. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Hit me. Whatever it is. I meant it when I said I want to be your friend.”

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