The room's door was open as Victoria walked through the hallway. Hadn't she seen Gio drive out earlier that morning? She had, she thought, remembering how he threw her a wave from the car after catching her staring from the window.
"Gio?" she called as she finally reached the open room. But it wasn't Gio in the room.
It was Marcello. His eyes, as dark as Gio's, lifted to take her in.
Vickie hadn't seen much of him since the funeral, and the man that stared at her now almost looked like something out of a horror novel—thin frame, sunken eyes, and hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in years. He was a far cry from the man who had been present at her wedding.
"Need something?" he asked.
"Um, er, no," she replied.
He was behind the desk, and it looked like he was going through the p
