Calla stepped out of her house, the night breeze brushing lightly against her skin. The street was quiet, except for the black tinted-window car parked directly across from her building. Fabio stood beside it, leaning on the door like a carved statue in a suit. Rigid and unreadable.
A soft sigh left her. Of course, Rico would send him.
And the moment she saw Fabio’s face, she couldn’t stop the flicker of memory from what he told her happened to Bruno. She wondered if he was recovering… if he was even alive. No one had told her anything.
“Evening,” Fabio greeted quietly, dipping his head once. No warmth, just out of duty.
She matched it with a small, polite smile. “Hi.”
He pulled the back door open for her. She held her long dress off the ground and slipped inside without another word.
