Page 172 of Bitter Poetry
My mood cools as my mind skips back to what he said about Christian.
“Are you really worried about Christian?”
He sighs heavily. “Yes, I am. Ettore got hold of some security footage from across the street from your father’s home. I haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t know if it’s incriminating. He checks in withMateo, the head of our security several times a day, and nothing indicates he might be compromised.”
He’s still worried, though. I can hear it in his voice.
“Can he leave Ettore?”
“No. Not easily, and especially not so soon after you’ve disappeared.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Me neither. But we planned for this, and we’ve no choice now but to let it run its course.”
CHAPTER 53
CARMELA
Days pass. I’m still closeted in Dante’s apartment. Tensions are escalating; that’s as much as Dante has told me.
True to his word, he hasn’t fucked me.
I haven’t seen Christian and with every day my worry for him grows.
I haven’t spoken to my father or Jessica.
And I’m slowly losing my mind.
This is coming to a head. It’s like a taste in the air, a desperation that crawls under my skin, building a pressure that compels me to act. The longer this goes on the more convinced I am that someone I love will get hurt, and, further, that I alone have the perfect solution to bring this to an end.
But like all plans, mine comes with a few hitches. I had it all planned out: how I would ask Cherry to stop by with some imagined essentials, how I would ask her for the code, and if that didn’t work, how I would threaten to give her location away.
My reasons are good ones. I would be betraying her trust for the greater good. It wasn’t like I would actually give her locationaway. Then, when I picked up the cell phone Dante gave me, and got ready to message Leon—because lying to him was easier than lying to Dante—that’s where my plan fell apart.
I don’t have the disposition to hurt Cherry, even for the greater good, even though leaving is the right thing to do. There are ethics I still hold—and want to hold—that separate me from Ettore and his kind.
Then I wondered if I told her why I needed the door code and what I planned, she would help.
More likely, she wouldn’t, and then she would tell Leon and Dante, and my plans would be well and truly screwed.
Which is when an alternative came to mind.
I’ve just got to be in the right place at the right time, or specifically, my new cell phone does. It’s taped to the back of the picture in the foyer, and the camera is peeking out. I spent hours figuring out the best location to put it, which is when I discovered there was precisely one. But as long as she doesn’t stand super close to the keypad, which she has no reason to, I won’t follow her into the foyer; I should get the pattern of her fingers, maybe even the numbers that she presses.
It’s worth a shot.
It’s this or nothing. I could try the same plan with Dante, but he’s here all night, and I’m pretty sure my cell wouldn’t record eight hours’ worth of video without running out of storage… or battery. Slipping out of bed to turn it on before he leaves feels risky.
So here I am. Dante has left. I’ve just texted Leon to ask for some more personal care. My period has finished, but I’m not expecting him to question the request that closely.
He doesn’t.
Two hours later I get another message from him asking if I’m good with Cherry coming up now.
My nerves are frayed, and my hands are shaking. It takes me three attempts to turn the record function on, including nearly knocking over the hot pink vase on the low console beneath the picture.
I need all of this to be over and Ettore to be dead. Unlike betraying Cherry’s trust, I suffer no moral or ethical dilemmas when contemplating putting a blade between Ettore’s ribs.
