Page 11 of Beautiful Evidence

"Well, it's gonna eat you alive. Just hand it over to that nerdy tech."

I press my fingers against my temple, the tension creeping higher. "It already is."

She’s quiet for a beat, then asks, "Do you want me to come over?"

I think about it for a minute and decide it's not what I want. Maybe a glass of wine and a hot bath, not more questions and skepticism or lectures. "No," I say. "Just talking to you helps. I just needed to say it out loud."

"Then I’m here. Anytime. And Alessia?"

"Yeah?" I ask, feeling slightly better now and more ready to go home and try to sleep off this new revelation.

"Go get some sleep. Or at least lie down." I smile at her gentle mothering attempt.

"You too. ’Night."

"’Night."

We hang up without saying goodbye. I scrub my hands over my face and clean up the lab. Nothing’s changed, really, except now the knot in my stomach has a name—M99.

The walk home is short but tense thanks to my handsome shadow I can basically count on at this point. My nerves buzz the entire way because I am terrified he's going to corner me and ask me what I learned today.

The hallway is quiet when I reach my floor, but the instant I reach for my keys, I feel a sliver of fear crawl down my back. The lock is scuffed. The metal casing is dented just slightly, like someone tried to force it with a tool and then gave up. I shudder and run my finger along the edge.

Someone has been here, trying to get into my apartment, and it happened sometime today. I swear that damage wasn't here when I left this morning.

I slide my phone out and type a quick message to Chiara to let her know I'm home safe, but I'm glancing over my shoulder as I do it, praying whoever it was is gone.

Alessia: 11:42 PM: Home. Talk tomorrow. Buona notte.

I don’t wait for a reply from her because standing in this hallway feels too exposed. So I unlock the door, step inside, and reset the deadbolt. Then I reach for the drawer beside the fridge and pull out the small pistol I keep there. My hand doesn’t shake, but my pulse jumps as I walk from room to room making sure I'm alone.

I check the rooms one by one—bathroom, bedroom, closet. Nothing’s out of place, but something is off, or maybe I'm just too afraid now.

I stand in the center of the kitchen with the gun in my hand, shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying to decide whether I’m overreacting or not. I don’t like feeling cornered in my own apartment, but something about the lock tells me I’m not imagining how dangerous the situation I'm in is. I grip the pistol tighter and stare at the door, trying to decide whether it's safe to stay here.

There’s a knock at the door. The two solid taps are evenly spaced and controlled, with no panic or haste behind them.

I stand completely still with a rigid back and my hand tight on the gun’s grip. The apartment is silent, and I listen for any follow-up sound—a footstep, a breath, anything at all—but nothing comes.

A few seconds pass. Then another knock comes, this time followed by a voice.

"Alessia." The voice is muffled but familiar. My shoulders tense as I walk closer to the door and rise up on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole.

I let a gust of air burst from my lungs—an exasperated sigh. I don't think for a second that Vinny was the one who tried breaking in. He's better than that. He'd be able to pick the lock and let himself in without my knowing it. I can almost bet on it. But I don't feel safe in here right now, and he's here…

I unlock the door but leave the chain on. "What do you want?" I keep my stance tight, fingers curled around the inner door handle, my body angled to slam it shut if I need to.

"Someone was outside when we walked up," he says. "They ran when I turned the corner. I checked the perimeter, but they’re gone." He keeps his voice level, but I catch the flicker ofsomething colder in his eyes—calculation, or maybe restraint. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Convenient," I mumble, then I narrow my eyes through the gap in the door, my pulse climbing as I scan his face for the smallest sign of dishonesty. My belly flutters as I remember the way he touched me the other night and I think about why he's even in my life right now. My father would never send one of his men in to keep an eye on me if he thought they'd harm me in any way. I know at least that much about my father is civil.

He does care, even if it's messed up the way he shows it.

Vinny meets my gaze evenly. "I’m not here to start something. I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he repeats. His stance doesn’t shift, hands loose at his sides, like he knows exactly how much space to take up to avoid being threatening. I shake my head and sigh.

"You’re watching me now too?" I ask as I eye the chain. The gun in my hand feels like dead weight now.

"Yes. That’s the job." His reply comes fast like a well-trained soldier's response.

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