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One of them steps sideways from the door and the other holds it open for a third man coming in. He’s wearing a grey fitted suit on an average body. Not too tall but not small, not big but just fit. He doesn’t look old enough to be my dad but much older than me still. His skin is tanned like Rose and Jake. That golden Mediterranean tan. His hair is the same as them as well, jet black, only his are peppered with bits of grey hair just above the ears.
His eyes land on us and a satisfied smirk forms on his face. I’m the only one who sees it because Rose is still facing me. Her eyes squeeze shut at the sound of the door closing. Everything is complete silence except for his leather expensive-looking shoes now hitting the floor as he makes his way toward us. She reopens her eyes and is looking directly at me.
“Jamie,” she whispers so quietly I’m not even sure I heard her. “Do me a favor. When Jake and Nate get out. Tell them I’m in Washington D.C. You got it?”
“Wh–”
“Keep that for me,” she cuts me off as she hands me her phone.
She gives me a sad smile and for the first time ever it looks like the most honest smile in the world. There’s no fake happiness in it, no fake innocence, no manipulation just…the truth.
A shape appears right behind Rose and I look up as the man in grey and one of the guards settle right behind her. The other one is still standing by the door, keeping an eye on the outside.
She slowly gets up, plasters a horrific artificial bright smile on her face, and turns around.
“Rose,” the man says in a relieved sigh. “My beautiful flower.”
He puts a hand on her waist and the other grabs the back of her head, right above her neck, as he brings her into a hug, pushing her head against his shoulder. Her arms, however, stay straight by her side.
“Mi sei mancato tanto. So so much.” His hand on the back of her head tightens and my eyes fall on a mark on her neck.
In thick letters, ‘M.B.’ are scarred just below her hairline, like it’s been burnt into her skin. My whole body shivers and I can feel my brows furrowing as things start to add up in my head.
M. B.
M. B.
Like Mateo Bianco.
The realization creeps up on me and it takes me three attempts to swallow the knot in my throat.
“Me too,” she replies when he lets her go. “Can we,” she scratches her throat, “can we just get this over with? I’ve been here for hours, I’m exhausted.”
“Of course, of course,” he says waving a hand in the air. “We need to get you to bed.”
The way he says this sends a chill down my spine. His voice is warm but there’s an underlying tone hinting that it’s all just fake. A tone saying the warmth in his voice instantly disappears if things don’t go his way.
He didn’t even notice me. I watch as they both walk to the counter, a hand still on the small of her back. Her posture is so stiff I’m surprised she hasn’t snapped in two already. I can’t take my eyes off that scar. Who would do that? Just brand someone like that? And why her? I know for certain that Jake’s only mark on his skin is that tattoo he shares with Sam, Nathan, and Rose.
Talking about that stupid gang tattoo. The man I’m assuming is Mateo unconsciously plays with strands of Rose’s ponytail as he signs some paperwork. On his right hand is that exact X tattoo they all have. That makes things pretty clear now.
He talks to Craig, who’s trying to make himself small, and finally, he gestures at the man in a suit next to him. The man grabs something from the inside pocket of his jacket and throws a wad of bills on the counter.
All in all, it must have lasted five minutes. The longest minutes of my life. The five minutes that felt like hours as I slowly realized who the man was, as I watched his hands in Rose’s hair and on her back, as I realized she was going to leave with him. Certainly not by choice, but she was leaving with him.
Five minutes where I re-ran the whole night in my head: her fear of someone calling the cops, her begging Craig not to call ‘him’, her anger, her resignation, her terror. Five minutes where I recall Jake telling me how horrible it had been at Bianco’s without ever getting into it. Five minutes of debating myself horribly: Do I do something? Say something? Will she let me? Will she be mad?
Five minutes where I remembered how this whole situation started and came to the same awful conclusion: it’s my fault.
When they both turn around, he finally notices me. Grey, steel eyes run through my whole body, sending chills of disgust all over my skin. He locks his gaze with mine and I raise my chin, doing my best to throw him my darkest look. Only, I know that for someone my size and appearance, that does absolutely nothing.
He finally lets go of Rose and walks toward me. As he approaches, I stand up and cross my arms over my chest, grateful for the heels I’m still wearing that give me extra height. Rose’s eyes widen behind Bianco and she shakes her head ‘no’ at me. As if warning me to not piss him off. Warning me to not go against him.
How? How can she be like this and just let this slide? She hurries to follow him and stands beside him.
“Now, who might be this little thing?” he asks.
Rose’s face turns to stone. “I don’t know, some bitch Jake is fucking at the moment,” she says. “I can’t remember her name.”
