Page 19 of Unforgivable Ties

“We shouldn’t disappoint him, right?” I said, using my free hand to cup the side of her face.

Her eyes widened, startled by my sudden, gentle touch. But she didn’t flinch away. Instead, she stared back at me, her breath hitching.

“Vincenzo,” she said, her voice going up an octave. “You’re not suggesting we…?”

I leaned in close, ghosting my lips against the shell of her ear. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” I teased, before pulling away.

“You, you!” she spluttered, her cheeks flaming a gorgeous shade of red.

I opened the car door for her and she slid in, still flushed and flustered. With a last smug look towards her ex-boyfriend, who was now glaring daggers in my direction, I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

“I don’t work today,” she said. “And I’m not doing anymore side work for you.”

“Calm down. I have to go to the warehouse by your house, so I thought I’d give you a ride home.”

It was a lie. I most certainly did not need to go to that warehouse, but I could find a reason to poke around.

“You’re something else,” she muttered under her breath, but there was no fire behind it. Just a spark of frustration and surprise.

“You’re welcome,” I responded, and drove us towards her apartment, a comfortable silence between us.

As we pulled up to her apartment, there was a city truck parked outside, blocking the entrance to the complex’s driveway. I parked the car on the street, and the two of us got out.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking confused. “Are they doing maintenance work?”

I almost laughed. As if they’d be doing maintenance work in a shithole like this.

We walked closer and saw a man hammering red signs into each apartment door. It said “condemned” in capital letters, with smaller text beneath that we couldn’t quite make out from a distance.

“Wh-what? No!” Stephanie said, jogging towards a worker.

I couldn’t say I was surprised. The reason I was under the impression there were no apartments in this area was becauseI thought this building had been condemned the entire time. I followed behind her, watching the confusion on her face turn into panic as she reached the worker.

“…structural damage, black mold, electrical hazards, toxic chemicals, illegal additions,” the city worker said to her.

“No way! I live in there; it’s totally fine!”

As if on cue, the step I had been weakening finally gave way and broke in half. The concrete narrowly avoided hitting a worker who was pounding a sign into one of the apartment doors below.

“The building needs to be vacated immediately,” the worker said to her.

“But my stuff is in there!” Her eyes grew wide and desperate, her hands clenching into tight fists.

“I’m afraid it’s too unsafe, miss,” the worker said, shooting an apologetic glance her way.

“But, but,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

“You haven’t put the signs on the second floor, right?” I said, stepping in front of Stephanie to talk to the worker. He shrank away from me, like most people, intimidated by my size.

“Well, no, but—”

“So that means we have time to grab her things before that floor is officially condemned,” I finished for him, crossing my arms and looking down at the worker.

“I-I suppose if you’re quick about it,” he stammered, inching away from me.

“Great.”

Stephanie and I climbed the stairs, making sure to skip the missing step. She unlocked the door to her apartment, and let out a little sigh of defeat as we walked inside.

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