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“I think it might be best to leave it where it is, since he’s used to it being in the living room. Unless you’d rather I keep it in here. I know it’s hideous.”
“Living room it is,” he said. “I’m gonna pick up some dinner before I head back too. Any restrictions?” he asked.
“You don’t need to feed—“ I started to object, getting a raised brow out of him, and changing tack. “No, I like just about everything. Thanks.”
With that, he was heading out, and I was left to hang up my clothes so they didn’t wrinkle before heading out to the kitchen to set up my espresso machine and Kevin’s bowls.
He seemed happy at the change of venue, walking around the back of the sectional until he found his new favorite spot, and sat down to clean himself.
“Nice digs, right, bud?” I asked, taking a deep breath as I looked around, feeling the way tension was slowly seeping out of my body at finally feeling safe.
The exhale ended on a laugh, though, as I realized the one place in Brooklyn I felt safe… was in the home of a member of the Italian mafia.
It was right about then that there was the click of a key in the lock, making me move out of the kitchen.
“Did you forget—“ I started, then trailed off when two women were moving into the apartment.
“Elian,” the first one called out, a short, slight woman with dark hair pulled into a French braid, and big-golden brown eyes in her young, pretty face.
“Who are you?” the second woman asked. She was taller with a lot more presence, looking fierce and strong in jeans and a black tank top, her sleek dark hair pulled into a ponytail.
“Oh,” the first woman said, golden eyes going wide as she looked at me. “Hi,” she said, seeming to shrink into herself in the presence of a stranger.
“Hi. Um, I’m Elizabeth,” I explained. “I’m a friend of Elian’s,” I said, not knowing how else to describe what I was.
“A friend?” the taller woman asked, tone dubious before her keen gaze landed on the bruise on my face. “What the fuck is that?” she asked, moving away from the younger woman toward me, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she approached. “Did Elian—“
“My brother would never hit a woman,” the younger one insisted, outraged on behalf of her brother.
“Elian didn’t hit me,” I was quick to explain, wanting to defend him too. The man had been nothing but good to me in the short time I’d known him. “He’s… trying to protect me from the people who did,” I added.
“No shit,” the taller woman said. “You’re the one who got shot,” she said, gaze going to my arm.
“I, ah, yeah,” I agreed.
“Is she the reason I have to have a bodyguard?” the younger woman asked.
“No,” the taller one was quick to say. “But I think she’s proof of why you need me, don’t you?” she asked, waving again at my face.
“That bad, huh?” I asked, not having seen it since right after it happened.
“It’s not pretty,” the tall one said. “I’m Cinna, by the way. This one’s bodyguard for the time being,” she said, waving at the younger one.
“And you’re Elian’s sister?” I asked, not seeing much of a resemblance save for the dark hair and golden eyes.
“Islah,” she said, giving me a small smile.
“Is Elian here?” Cinna asked, glancing around.
“He ran out to get a litter box,” I said, waving over toward Kevin.
“Oh, hey!” Islah said, immediately melting as she went over toward Kevin, kneeling on the couch to pet his silky black fur.
“How strong of coffee does that thing make?” Cinna asked, waving to the espresso machine.”
“About as dark as you can handle,” I said.
“Make me a cup?” she asked, looking tired.
