Turning Point||Book 2

43: Xenia/Romano.

Xenia Butler

Romano hadn't accompanied me into Joanna's ward, which was just as well. I needed privacy to share the details of my life since my last visit. From the harrowing experience of nearly drowning to the intense encounter with Romano last night, I recounted everything to Joanna.

I felt a blush creeping over my cheeks as I confessed about smoking cigarettes for the first time and my experience with bondage sex. Discussing these things with Joanna wasn't embarrassing at all. She was my sister, and sharing these intimate details felt natural, as it was a part of our bond. Just as she had shared her own experiences with me, I hadn't failed to retell mine.

When it came time to discuss what would happen when Romano returned to Bologna, I admitted that all I could do was trust him to figure it out. I was living in the moment, trying not to worry about the future and hoping not to get hurt again.

An hour later, my visit with her came to an end, and I left her with kisses before happily returning to the car to meet Romano. He sat in the driver's seat, looking stoic behind his dark shades, a hip flask in hand, the other holding the steering wheel.

"How did it go?" His voice adopted a different timbre, a hoarse edge creeping in. I reassured him it was fine as I settled into my seat and fastened my seatbelt, but his attention was elsewhere, fixed on the side mirror with suspicion. "Che strano!"

"What?" Anxiety gripped me as I watched him remove his glasses, his hand poised on the gear shift. "Roe, what's wrong?"

"Seatbelts, Xenia. Now!" He flung the hip flask off his grip and barked, yet if he had glanced my way, he would have noticed I was already buckled in.

I glanced outside, seeing nothing but parked cars and a few pedestrians. Nothing looked off, so what was the problem?

As he pulled out of the parking spot and merged onto the road, he muttered, "we're being followed," sending a wave of dread through me. Panic coated my tongue.

"By who?"

"I wouldn't know just yet." He continued driving, alternating between checking the side mirror, the rearview, and the road ahead. Then he picked up speed, the car feeling more agile and responsive. "Can you see the license plates from where you're sitting?"

I glanced back, confirming with a fast nod. I could see them—a sleek, black automobile, matching our pace. But what made my stomach's somersault a zillion times more painful was that I could recognize that car, from weeks back. It was the same car that had scared the shit out of me with its ominous presence the first time I'd gone to Nova with April and Caleb. That night that Jerry had asked for a walk to get to know me.

The car was clearly tailing Romano's. My heart raced at the same speed. My thoughts berated me for dragging us into this situation, because if I hadn't come to see Joe, this would not be happening. Either the TIF members were after me, or something equally dangerous wanted to make its point.

"Memorize the license plate numbers," he ordered, sharply maneuvering the car around the next turn, causing us to sway left and right violently. I worried about him losing control on the road, but he found us a lane and blended in seamlessly. "Grab my phone from the cupholder and hunker down in your seat. Call Umfredo right away."

My hands trembled as I reached for the phone. Just a gentle reminder, this wasn't my usual routine. While Romano calmly undid the first and second buttons of his shirt and maintained his composure, scanning the road ahead and changing lanes, I struggled to dip low in my seat and unlock his fucking phone.

Just as I gained access to his call log, I dialed Umfredo's number. "It's rin—" I gasped as we swerved to the right. "ringing."

Umfredo answered. "Boss?"