I busy myself tagging new items, the day passing in a blur, my thoughts a whirl with everything.
In my mind, I’m weighing options. If I leave here, I’ll need to get a new car. One that won’t break down on the side of the road. The Golf is fine for short trips in town where Jim is available if I run into trouble. It won’t make a long-distance trip.
But what will happen to the shop?
Deirdre could take it over. She’d like that, I think. Right? But there’s her granddaughter to consider. This is just a part-time job for her.
And I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to start again.
I don’t want to be afraid.
I go back and forth all afternoon, deciding and changing my mind about everything again and again. All the while, thoughts of Giovanni last night, of how he was, how gentle he became. How almost careful with me.
But I will never see him again. Best to get him out of my mind. He’s not my prince charming and there won’t be a fairy-tale ending. Not for me.
As much as I want to close up shop, it’s Saturday, my busiest day, and I need the money. By the time I leave, it’s half-past nine.
I drive home remembering how the last time I’d walked into my house, Giovanni’s men had been there waiting for me. That was just last night. It seems like so much has happened since.
I think about Giovanni and I wonder if I could go to him. If Sean were here, could I go to him and ask for help?
But that’s ridiculous. He’s a criminal. A loan shark. That’s the reason I was in that situation at all. What happened after the auction, well, I should just keep my head down before he decides he’d like his money’s worth after all.
Besides, for a man like him, that sort of transaction we had, it’s business. I wonder if he has someone else paying off their debt tonight.
The thought makes me feel a little sick and I distract myself by switching radio stations.
I pull onto my street and do a quick scan. Nothing looks out of the ordinary.
At least not until I get near enough to my house to see the black sedan parked high on my driveway.
My heart skips a beat and my hands grow sweaty on the steering wheel.
It’s the same car as the other night. I think. Although it’s not like I saw the license plate. But I do recognize the man smoking his cigarette out on my porch.
I park my car on the street and take a breath that should be calming but my heart is still thundering against my chest as I step out.
The man takes a deep drag as he watches me walk up the cracked walkway to the front steps. My heels click as I go and although it’s not a quiet neighborhood, the sound seems too loud tonight.
When I climb the stairs, he nods, reaches to open my front door for me.
The lights are on and I step into the living room. I can see the small kitchen and find another man looking in my refrigerator. He’ll be disappointed, I think.
The door closes behind me just as I hear Giovanni’s voice.
“Mother fucker,” he says. “Just make sure the family’s taken care of.”
He ducks his head as he descends the stairs and when his strange eyes meet mine it feels like a thousand butterflies take flight in my stomach.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, eyes on me as he disconnects the call and tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket.
The house looks tiny with him in it. Not to mention old and dusty.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, taking a step back when he comes to stand just a few feet from me.
He shrugs a shoulder. “That lock wasn’t keeping anyone out.”
I look at the door and remember I’d only used the lock on the doorknob the other night.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix what I broke.”
There’s that accent again. And it’s so subtle, I imagine most people don’t notice it at all.
I turn back to find he’s moved closer. His gaze roams over my face, travels down to my chest, then back up to my eyes.
“Get out,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
But then his men leave. He was talking to them.
“Why did you refuse the ride this morning?”
I step backward to give myself space. Room to breathe. I turn my attention to putting my keys and tote down on the table by the door.
“I didn’t need it.”
“You took a bus.”
When I turn, it’s to find him in the same place still watching me. “What’s wrong with the bus? Men like you don’t ride it, I guess? Too good for public transportation?”
He chuckles, shifts his weight to one leg. “Men like me?”
I shrug a shoulder, hoping I look calmer than I feel because my heart is racing and in my mind are images of the way he looked last night. The way he looks under those clothes.
Images of the way he looked at me.
“I don’t mind public transportation,” I say, my voice coming out strange.
“No, please, explain the men like you part?” he says, stepping forward.
It takes all I have not to back up. “Don’t you have a stable of women available to you at any moment of the day?”
He cocks his head to the side. “What does that have to do with public transportation?”
I flounder. Why did I even say that?
“Or are you jealous?” he asks.
“Jealous?”
“Of those women. My stable. Maybe you’d like to join-”
“No. I… of course not. Just forget it. What do you want? Why are you here?”
I swear he comes even closer if that’s possible. “Take better care with your words, Sienna Chase.”
I note the emphasis on my borrowed last name. I wonder what he knows and why he’d care to know anything at all.