Page 36 of Luca
A knock on the door.
“What?” I snapped.
A pause. “Are you okay?”
Shit. I barely landed and I was already snapping at people. I swallowed. This wasn’t good. I lost all the money, except for a few thousand that was in my wallet. The two guys who sat with me had to have taken it when I dozed off.
Fuck, why did I sleep?
“Yes,” I choked out. Fuck no, I wasn’t okay. Fifty grand was stolen. Oh my God!
How could I have been so stupid? My sixth sense was warning me, but I ignored it. In my entire life, I’d never let anyone play me just because I was a woman. I partied wild, but there were always people around me who ensured I was safe.
Now I had nobody. Nothing. And I was robbed blind.
The woman behind the door sighed as if she didn’t believe I was okay, but she said nothing else. I heard her soft steps distancing, leaving me alone to my despair.
I stared at my empty secret compartment and slowly, like a tide on the full moon, anger slowly bubbled and rose.
* * *
It wasdark when I arrived in the dark alley, the old stone homes closing in on me from three sides. This was definitely not Rome advertised in tourist brochures.
My sweatshirt was on, somewhat hiding my belly and the hoodie covering my head.
I walked down the cobble street until I found the house number that was provided as the men’s address. I had to charm the woman at the front desk of ITA Airways and convince her that my boyfriend left me at the airport after we landed because we had an argument. I even rubbed my belly as a tear made its way down my cheek, telling her I suspected he was cheating on me and dragged me to the land of love to hook up with a woman he met on the internet.
The woman sighed and let out a few words in Italian, probably curses. But she ended up giving me the address, and it was how I found myself here. I blew out a frustrated breath. Teaching an asshole a lesson while six months pregnant wasn’t exactly something I cared to have on my resume.
But here we were.
Silently, I walked towards the house. Glancing around, I couldn’t spot a single soul around. I’d never thought that to be possible in Rome. I climbed up the stone stairs, careful not to step on cracked ones. Or unbalanced ones.
Once on the second story landing, I took a moment to ease the tension in my shoulders. I dug out the scissors I purchased earlier. My first purchase in the land of love and it was scissors. So I could threaten jerks who stole from me.
I shook my head in disbelief.
If this was an indication of my future here, I needed to find another EU country to live in.
Besides, Áine would get a kick out of it. I refused to fight with a knife and here I was gripping something like one as if my life depended on it. In some ways, it did.
Putting my hand on the nob, I twisted it and the door opened. I entered the shabby apartment, then lowered my Vera Bradley bag on the tiled floor. The old pipes clanked and the shower came on. Inwardly, I groaned. I’d have to teach the thieving asshole a lesson while he was naked. This day was getting better and better.
This actually might work out, I thought silently. It’d be hard to kill two men at the same time in my condition. The kitchen was empty. The living area was empty. The bedroom was empty.
“Okay, just one guy then,” I whispered to myself while the shower kept running.
I made my way through the small apartment until I reached the bathroom with the door cracked open. My eyes darted around the small European bathroom. Just enough space for one person. Definitely not two, and one well into her second trimester.
I leaned against the door and waited. First he’d tell me where the money was and then I’d kill him. I was tired, hungry, and cranky as fuck. He picked the wrong woman to fuck with.
As I waited for what had to be the longest shower to end, I daydreamed about a warm, comfy bed and room service for one night at least, before I’d take the ferry to Sicily. I couldn’t risk my family finding me and dragging me back to marry someone. No Northern Italy for me. Sicily sounded better and warmer.
The shower cut off, and I tensed up, ready and waiting for him to push the shower curtain aside. My hand gripped the knife just as he walked through with a towel around his waist.
He barely stepped out when he noticed me.
“Hey there. Remember me?” I deadpanned calmly. He should know never to fuck with a pregnant woman. Especially not an Irish pregnant woman.
