Page 9 of Twisted Promise

“Two-week double pay,” Alessio interjected.

The tears and babbling were gone. How convenient.

In place was an elated and enthusiastic employee, promising to make his time on the set as smooth as possible.

“Alright, boss. Have fun, boss. Call me if you need anything, boss—anything.”

He pocketed his phone and leaned his weight on the car hood, his arms tensing underneath as he tilted his head to look up at the starry sky. It was rare for late October to have stars around this area, and the brightest one glared back at him.

He wanted to do so many things but also nothing at all. At least not now. Little by little, he was going to invade her life again and put more pieces of himself into her puzzle—the future she had decided he was not allowed to be in.

He laughed silently. White smoke slithered upward, scattering above his faded gaze.

He’d be more than happy to crush that plan in front of her, but he didn’t think he should, not too obvious anyway.

Alessio brought a hand to his neck and massaged the inkling of selfishness that looped down his spine. It persisted, so he allowed it to fester and form a distorted kind of strength to push him up from the hood and propel his foot toward the house.

Each step felt purposeful and light.

Inside, he found Anya in the living area, seated next to Meryl, who was showing her something on the phone. They looked at each other, then back at the screen, repeating the motion.

“My ex-husband is here,” Meryl hissed, yanking her hair.

Anya met his eyes over the other woman’s shoulder, and her cheeks dusted pink as her frantic gaze snapped away.

“Which one?” Anya tested.

“I only divorced once. Technically, this one is still my husband, but he might as well be a divorcee.”

Anya grimaced. “Honestly, he’s a catch. He cares about you, has an ambitious career, a sense of humor, confidence, attractiveness, and a stack of credit cards.”

A voice in his ears mimicked a deafening creek in a run-down, abandoned house. It revived the discontentment in his throat, and he stopped a restless sneer from breaking past his scowl.

Meryl scoffed, slamming her phone against the armrest. “With the emotional capacity of a carrot.”

“They’re good for the eyes, though.”

Meryl’s shushing objection was nimble, and Anya smiled sheepishly.

Their conversation stilled as Alessio’s towering frame reached their peripheral, his steps deliberate as he approached.

Anya swallowed fretfully. “You look like you’re about to cement me into the floor.”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

Anya tried to suppress the flinch. She didn’t look scared, just startled.

“Did I offend you in any way?” She raised an eyebrow as fascination rallied in her eyes.

“Your self-reflection is admirable,” he intoned dryly and took gratification from her gasp.

Her soft features hardened to an incredulous frown.

It almost felt like the past, just the two of them and slow days.

Good, he mused.

Things needed to be taken slowly, and progress wouldn’t disappoint him if he was patient.

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