Alessandro |18+|

34

ARIA

"Can I come see you?" I asked Tammy. I held my phone to my ear, waiting for her response and then she let out a sigh.

"I'm not at home Aria—I'm not even in the city," she replied, and I heard a car door slam shut in the background. I ran a hand over my face, letting myself slump on my sofa. Tammy not being in the city was news to me and I pursed my lips to prevent myself from saying something that I shouldn't.

"Since when?" I asked, watching the hands on my clock ticking. It was late—around ten in the evening.

Tammy didn't answer her phone the first time I called and I decided to give my apartment a spring clean. I showered, read a few chapters of a romance novel and made myself a chicken and vegetable stir-fry.

By the time I was done, Tammy returned the call and we proceeded to have a lengthy conversation about everything.

"Since two days ago. Elijah took me on a small vacation—just something to get my mind off things. I'm sorry for not telling you. He's been so good to me, Aria. I actually feel like...things might work out," Tammy said, and I could hear the happiness in her voice.

I smiled, thrilled to know that Tammy had been receiving the treatment that she deserves.

She spoke again, "I'm also sorry about not telling you what happened that night. It's hard to talk about stuff like that, especially when I'm the one who fucked up and went with him—"

"Tammy, no. It's not your fault. He's just a creepy asshole who has no fucking self-control. You did nothing wrong," I said firmly, making sure I got my point across. Judging from her light-hearted chuckle, I could tell that she agreed with me.

"You're right," she said, and I heard a car start. "I have to go. But it was nice talking to you, Aria. I'll see you soon,"

"See you, Tammy," I greeted, and she murmured another bye before the call went dead.

I stared at the ceiling, enjoying the quietness of my apartment. But I missed Sandro, even though it had barely been a day. He said he would see me that night, but I was starting to think that it might not happen.

I was oddly wide awake seeing that I was running on five hours of sleep. I considered calling him to ask if I should expect him or not—but decided against it and got up to pour me a glass of wine instead.

Sandro had my fridge fully stocked with everything I liked and I could just imagine big mafia men buying groceries with their guns hanging off the waist bands. To this day, I still couldn't figure out how they always got away with carrying deadly weapons. For my own sanity, I stopped questioning it.

I sat down again and picked up my book—using the bookmark to flick to the chapter where I had ended the last time I read. I crossed my bare legs, and quickly lost myself within a world of fiction.

An hour went by when a knock came from my door.

It must have been Sandro, but not wanting to take any chances, I settled my book down and called out, "Yes?"

"It's late, I know but—can I come in?" Sandro asked, his voice sounding different from usual. It alert me, and I was up to open to the door immediately. He let out a sigh when he saw me—his head dropping as if he was overwhelmed by exhaustion.

"You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face," Sandro murmured, and I stepped to the side to let him in.

My gaze travelled down his body, taking in the sight of him and making sure he was okay—he didn't seem like it. Sandro appeared to have had rough day—his knuckles were bloodied and his clothes were dusty.