I figured Fiorella was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But it’s so much worse than that.
“Boss,” Stefano says from my shoulder. “We really do have to go.”
The sirens are getting louder.
I pull myself away and storm back to the truck. Stefano climbs in beside me as I take it out of park and pull away, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles hurt.
“New orders,” I bark over the radio. “From now until the wedding, we’re watching over Fiorella. She doesn’t go anywhere without at least two of us nearby. Do you all understand?”
“I’ll start making schedules,” Davide says with a sigh.
Chapter 8
Fiorella
Two Weeks Later
“You sure you’re good?”Ernesto frowns at me from under his mop of black hair. He’s the foreman of this garage and the last one to leave for the night.
“Don’t worry about me.” I tap the hood of the Spider with my wrench. “Just got to finish up. If I stop now, I’ll lose all my momentum.”
He grunts, rubbing the back of his head. “I hear you, Fio, but you shouldn’t stay late anymore. You remember what happened a few weeks back.”
I wave his concern away. “Papa’s taking care of that. It was a fluke, right? I’ll be fine. I’ve worked after close a hundred times.”
“Yeah, okay, you’re right.” He hesitates still, but he finally shakes his head. “I wish my guys worked half as hard as you.”
“Give them jobs they actually like, and maybe they would.”
He barks a quick laugh and waves a hand. “Call if you need anything, alright,mija? I don’t need any more headaches from you.”
“You know me. I’m totally self-sufficient.”
“That’s the problem.”
I watch him go before turning up my radio. This is the best time of the day, when all of Papa’s guys are gone for a few hours before the real night shift begins in earnest. Ernesto runs a crew of mostly legal employees doing mostly legitimate car work as a front for the actual chop shop activities. It’s nine at night, and the criminals won’t start showing up until eleven. Then they work until four in the morning, the place closes for a couple of hours, and the cycle starts all over again.
I’m elbow deep in work and the world fades to nothing. This is what I live for. These stolen moments where I’m alone and doing a job I love. No thoughts, no worries, only pure flow. Simple step after simple step, each one building on the other, until the task is complete.
That’s as free as I get these days.
I have bigger plans. Mostly they involve finishing this car, selling it for a tidy profit, buying a beater, and getting the hell out of Philadelphia with Elisa by my side. We’ll change our names and start over fresh.
It’s fantasy. I know that. Maybe more like delusion. But it keeps me going. We could get a van and live on the move, never stopping for long, driving for hours under the beautiful clear sky. No limits. No worries.
But instead, I’m here in this garage. My hands are covered in black grease and my hair’s all sweaty. I’m tired, but in a good way. Raf will be annoyed that I stayed out late, but he’ll survive.
I haven’t heard from Luca in two weeks. It’s almost like I can forget that I’m supposed to marry him.
Except that night still lingers. Even when I’m here trying to escape the memories. I don’t need his taste in my mouth anymore. I don’t want the ghost of him between my legs. Better if he just doesn’t exist.
Another stupid fantasy.
There’s no running from my problems.
Not for a girl like me. No matter how badly I wish I could.
