Chapter 4
1031 Words
Forty seconds.
That’s how long the elevator took to get to the top floor. I watched the numbers go up on the screen. Forty seconds to fix my hair in the mirror. Forty seconds to check that the voice recorder in my pocket was on.
This wasn't a date. It was a spy mission.
The doors opened.
The room was a glass box high above the city. The lights of New York looked like cold stars below. Inside was even colder. Shiny metal. Black stone. White leather couches that looked too stiff to sit on. It didn't look like a home. It looked like a hotel lobby where fun goes to die.
"You're early."
Luca was by the big window. No jacket. Sleeves rolled up. He held a glass of brown drink. Ice clinked against the glass.
"I like to be fast," I said. I stepped out. The rug was thick. It ate the sound of my shoes.
He turned. "Drink?"
"I'm working."
"Me too." He pointed at the coffee table. There was a laptop and a stack of folders. "But the drink helps the numbers make sense. It's good stuff. Eighteen years old. Don't say no."
He walked over and held out the glass.
I took it. It was heavy and cold. I didn't drink it. I needed to stay sharp.
"The Milan files," I said. I put my bag down. "I brought the paper copies. The computer files are a mess."
"Matteo is always a mess," Luca said. He sat on the couch. He patted the empty seat next to him. "Sit."
It wasn't a question.
I sat. I left a space between us. I was close enough to smell him. He smelled like rain and expensive soap. It was annoying. Bad guys should smell bad.
We worked for an hour.
The only sound was his pen on the paper. He was smart. I hated saying it, but he was. He found mistakes in the shipping lists that I missed.
"Look here," he said. He leaned in.
His shoulder touched mine. Just a little bit. But I felt the heat from his body.
I went stiff.
He tapped the paper. "The weight is wrong. The box is too light. Someone is stealing."
"Or hiding something inside," I said. My voice was tight.
He turned his head. We were very close. I could see the gold specks in his gray eyes. He looked at my lips. Then back to my eyes. The air in the room felt heavy.
"You don't trust anyone, do you Isabella?"
"You pay me not to trust anyone."
"True." He looked at me for a long time. Then he leaned back. "I need more drink. Ice is melted."
He stood up. "Check the logs. I’ll be right back."
He walked to the kitchen. He went behind a big wall.
My heart beat fast.
Now.
I gave him three seconds. Then I stood up.
I didn't look at the files. I looked at the room. It was too clean. There were no messy drawers to look through.
Then I saw it.
Behind the couch. A dark wood table.
And sitting right in the middle: a box.
It looked old. It didn't match the modern room. It had vines carved into the wood. It looked like something from a scary story.
I walked across the rug. Quiet. From the kitchen, I heard ice hitting glass. Clack-clack.
I reached the table. No lock. My fingers shook over the lid.
Trophies. That’s what men like him kept. Little things to remember the people they hurt.
I opened the lid.
It made no noise.
I looked inside.
I was scared of what I would see. A finger? A gun?
It was just soft black cloth. And a silver chain.
I reached in. I pulled it out. The metal was cold.
A necklace. A cheap silver chain with a round locket.
The room spun. I grabbed the table to stop from falling.
I knew this locket.
I pressed the button. It popped open.
Inside was a tiny photo. It had water damage. Two girls, heads touching, smiling big. One with curly hair. The other with a gap in her teeth.
Me and Elena. At the beach. The summer before she died.
I couldn't breathe.
Elena was wearing this the night she went missing. The police never found it. They said the killer took it.
Luca had it.
He had her necklace.
I felt sick. He kept it. He kept it in a pretty box in his living room. Like a prize.
You monster.
"Isabella?"
His voice. From the door.
My heart stopped.
I dropped the locket. It hit the soft cloth. I let the lid drop. Clack.
The sound was loud in the quiet room.
I spun around.
Luca stood there. Fresh drink in his hand. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at his phone. He was reading a text and frowning.
He looked up. "Everything okay?"
I put my hands behind my back. They were shaking. "Fine. Just... my leg hurt. I needed to stand. The view is..." I waved a hand at the window. "Big."
Luca’s eyes got thin. Just a little. He walked into the room. He looked at me. Then at the box. Then back at me.
He knew.
He had to know. I was standing right next to it.
He walked toward me. Slow. Like a cat stalking a bird. He didn't stop until he was right in front of me. I was trapped between him and the table.
He reached out.
I jumped. I couldn't help it.
His hand didn't grab my neck. It brushed a curl of hair off my face. His hand touched my cheek. It was hot.
"You look pale," he said softly. His voice was deep. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
My heart was beating so hard it hurt. Did he mean the papers? Or the box?
"I found the mistake in the files," I lied. My voice was tiny.
"Good."
He leaned in close. His breath hit my lips. He smelled like whiskey and trouble.
"Then let's stop," he said. "We are done for tonight."
- Writer
