“Look, Em, I don’t want to go into the details, but she’s not what she pretends to be, and if I had my way, you wouldn’t go anywhere near her. She’s a selfish bitch. Let’s leave it at that. Okay?”
Rage bubbled up in my chest along with all the feelings of helplessness I’d barely managed to keep in check since my father shot down my plea to go to the music conservatory in Italy. I assumed Sal was different. I thought he understood me, only he was like every other man in my life, especially my dad. He wanted to control me and dictate what I could and couldn’t do. Well fuck him. I jumped out of the car.
The dam of frustration exploded, and I lashed out. “I can’t even do this with you right now. The last thing I need is another man trying to micromanage my life.” I slammed the door, the loud clunk ringing in my ears.
Sal rolled down the passenger side window. “Stop acting like a child and get in the fucking car.”
“No. Just go, and I’ll meet you here in two hours.”
“Get in.” He leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door.
“No.”
Horns blared behind him. Drivers shouted obscenities intermixed with colorful hand gestures.
“I’ll be fine.”
I took off, darting across the street, dodging traffic. Sal sped up, and his tires squealed around the corner. I watched him until his car was out of sight. My stomach swirled with equal amounts of disappointment and relief. I shouldn’t have lashed out at him, but after the confrontation with my piano teacher and the mounting pressure of Marcello’s visit, I was on edge.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A swing set surrounded by spindly trees and a few benches sat in the dead center of the park. A stray wrapper rolled near my feet like tumbleweed. The steady hum of traffic was punctuated with a stray dog bark here and there. Except for a man leaning against a tree who stopped to smoke a cigarette a couple of minutes ago, the park was empty.
Dammit, Lettie.
When I reached inside my messenger bag to call her, I groaned. I’d left my phone in the cup holder. Knowing Lettie, she could flake and I wouldn’t have a clue. Her husband ran hot and cold. Half the time he barely noticed her, and the other half he meddled in every decision, behaving like a total tyrant, demanding she cancel plans and banning her from leaving the house for weeks on end.
“Shit,” I mumbled, burying my face in my hands. I made a mistake coming here. It was getting dark, and Sal wouldn’t be back for two hours, if he bothered at all after my stupid temper tantrum. No, he’d come back. Sal could be a jerk, but he wouldn’t abandon me somewhere and risk pissing off my dad.
“Having a bad day?” a heavily accented voice rumbled next to my ear. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted across the back of my hair, and two hands landed on my shoulders.
My heart went haywire, and my spine stiffened. I lurched forward, trying to sever this man’s hold on me, but it was no use. He tightened his grip and yanked me back into the slats of the metal bench. Before I had the chance to scream, his palm came down on my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he hissed in my ear.
Panic crawled up my throat and tears burned the corners of my eyes. A sickening concoction of adrenaline swirled in my gut, rendering me blind and deaf to everything aside from the deafening drumming in my ears.
“Miss Trassato?”
The sound of my name rolling off his tongue snapped me out of my imminent panic attack. I jerked my gaze toward him and came face to face with the man who’d been standing across the park a few moments earlier. A fedora hat shadowed his eyes, and a thick beard concealed his features, making him next to impossible to identify in a lineup.
“I’m here to give you a message, not to hurt you. If I release my hand do you promise not to scream?”
I nodded, not sure if I was telling the truth, but needing his hands away from me as fast as possible. His hand shifted back to my shoulder and he squeezed. Rather than reassuring me of his intentions, the gesture sent a shudder rippling through me, which was probably his intention.
“Now turn around and smile like you’ve never been happier.”
“Who are you?”
“That’s not important. I’m only the messenger.”
“Then pass on your message and leave me alone.
He chuckled, and the grating sound along with the puff of his breath made my hair stand on end. “Tell your father that Signor Bonaccorso sends his regards, and he hasn’t forgotten their arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
He buried his hand in my hair, and I arched my back, preparing for him to yank on it. He didn’t. “You don’t need to worry about the details. He’ll understand.”