Page 82 of King

They would.

I bite down hard to fight the panic rising in my chest.

Standing out here on the balcony feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to solve anything. Defiance and anger spill into me.

I lift my face up to the grey clouds and close my eyes.Be strong, Zina. You can get through this. Whatever is wrong, you can fix it.

With a nod, encouraging myself, I walk off the balcony and down stairs to find Giovanni. He has to talk to me. We can’t carry on with closed communications.

As I walk into his office, he stands from his desk, clasping a piece of paper, looking down with the worst frown etched into his forehead.

I hesitate.

“Giovanni can we talk?” I ask, nervous because he already seems furious about something.

His head snaps up towards me and his eyes burning into my soul like ice.

“Yes. We can talk. And you explain what the fuck this is about.”

He walks around the desk and slams the photograph down onto the hard surface. I step closer, my eyes on him, nervous -

Glancing down at the image my stomach knots with frustration.

It’s a picture of me, standing next to Emiliano Maritz. Emiliano has his arm around my back, his hand resting on my waist. The picture looks intimate, like we’ve known each other for years, like we’re close, maybe even close enough to be lovers.

But that picture is one moment taken completely out of context.

“Giovanni - we’ve spoken about this.” I sigh. Pressing my fingers into the picture and pushing it away.

“No. You lied to me about it. That’s what really happened.” His words are dark with accusation. Anger rises in me.

I shake my head, refusing to back down.

“I most certainly did not lie. This photo was taken years ago - and I told you exactly what happened the day I met him.”

“Why don’t you tell me again, because from where I’m standing you two look awfully close. Intimately close.”

I pull my mouth tight and my shoulders tense.

“He came up to me on the streets, outside a coffee shop. I had no idea who he was. He told me he could make my life easier, for my son, and for me.”

“And?” Giovanni steps closer to me, folding his thick arms across his muscular chest.

“And I saidno.” I shout in anger. “I told you I turned him down.”

He clenches his jaw, searching my face for the truth. He doesn’t believe that I gave him the truth.

“Why is he holding you?”

“He’s not holding me.” I huff. “He reached out and touched me. It was uncomfortable, as uncomfortable as it would be if any stranger stepped into your personal space. This photo tells a fake story. It’s one moment frozen in time. As soon as I felt his hand on my waist, I moved away from him.”

Giovanni’s eyes flare in anger and he turns his back on me.

“I trusted you, Zina.”

I laugh bitterly and he turns to glare at me.

“You never trusted me - why did you have someone investigate me if you trusted me. That’s where the photo comes from right? Someone digging into my past - trying to find out all my dirty little secrets - well, what else did you find, Giovanni? Apart from one misleading imagefrom a story I already told you. One I wasn’t hiding in any way whatsoever. What else did you find?”

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