Chapter Seven-Get in the Car-Azul
1690 Words
Two months.
Two whole months.
That was how long the man in black had been coming to my café.
And I still didn’t know his name.
I had never asked.
Not because I didn’t want to know.
Because I couldn’t ask.
And somehow, he had never volunteered it.
He simply came.
Every day.
Almost.
Sometimes he came in the morning.
Sometimes around lunch.
Sometimes in the late afternoon.
Sometimes just before I closed.
He never seemed to have a particular schedule.
He simply appeared.
And every time he did, he sat in the same place.
The table near the window.
The one with the best view of the café.
And the one where he could see me.
Always me.
At first, his visits terrified me.
Every time the door opened, I expected trouble.
But after two weeks, something strange happened.
I stopped being afraid of the door.
Because whenever he came in, he didn’t do anything.
He ordered.
He ate.
He watched me.
Then he left.
That was it.
He had tried almost everything on my menu.
Croissants.
Bread.
Pies.
Pastries.
Sandwiches.
Different coffees.
He had even tried the cakes.
Although I quickly discovered that he wasn’t a fan of cake.
The first time he ordered one, he took two bites and never touched it again.
I had almost laughed.
Almost.
He liked coffee.
That was the one thing he ordered every single time.
Coffee.
Sometimes black.
Sometimes with milk.
But always coffee.
And always—
A hundred euros.
Every single time.
It was ridiculous.
If his bill was six euros, he left a hundred.
If it was ten, he left a hundred.
If he ordered enough food to make it fifteen, he still left a hundred.
Who did that?
One hundred euros.
For a coffee and a croissant.
I had tried giving the money back once.
He had simply looked at me.
Then pushed it back toward me.
I had tried again.
He shook his head.
So eventually, I stopped.
But I still didn’t understand.
Why?
Why did he keep coming?
Why did he keep looking at me?
Why did he always leave so much money?
And why had he never once tried to speak to me?
Sometimes I caught myself wondering about him.
Who was he?
What did he do?
Why did everyone seem afraid of him?
I didn’t know.
But I had learned one thing.
He was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
And today, I was reminded exactly how dangerous he could be.
⸻
It was a warm afternoon.
I was wearing a simple shirt underneath my apron.
My hair was tied into a loose bun because I didn’t want it falling into my face while I worked.
The café was busy.
Not overwhelmingly busy.
Just enough.
The smell of fresh bread filled the air.
I had a new batch of pastries cooling near the window.
Everything was normal.
Until Dante arrived.
Dante was one of my biggest suppliers.
He delivered some of the ingredients I needed for the café.
Flour.
Butter.
Sugar.
Fruit.
Other things I used for baking.
He was good at his job.
Very good.
But Dante had one other habit.
He flirted with me.
Constantly.
He had been doing it for months.
“You know,” he said as he unloaded the boxes, “one day you’re going to say yes to me.”
I smiled politely.
He laughed.
“That’s not a no.”
I shook my head.
He grinned.
“You’re impossible.”
I pointed toward the boxes.
He laughed again.
“Yes, yes. Business first.”
I nodded.
Dante looked at me.
Then he smiled.
“You look beautiful today.”
I rolled my eyes.
He laughed.
“I mean it.”
I shook my head.
“Beautiful.”
I gave him a small smile.
He stepped closer.
“Come out with me tonight.”
I shook my head.
“Dinner.”
Another shake.
“Coffee?”
I stared at him.
He laughed.
“Okay. You already get enough coffee here.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
Dante was annoying.
But he was harmless.
At least, that’s what I thought.
He reached toward me.
His fingers brushed against my arm.
And then—
Everything changed.
The café door opened.
I looked up.
My smile disappeared.
The man in black had arrived.
But this time, something was different.
His expression was terrifying.
His eyes went directly to Dante’s hand on my arm.
Then to me.
Then back to Dante.
He crossed the café.
Fast.
Before I could understand what was happening, he grabbed Dante’s arm.
Hard.
Dante’s face immediately changed.
“Hey—”
The man twisted his arm behind his back.
Dante gasped.
The entire café went silent.
I froze.
The man leaned toward him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
His voice was low.
Cold.
Dangerously calm.
“You should focus on selling whatever s**t you’re selling and get the hell out of here.”
Dante swallowed.
The man’s grip tightened.
“Because if you touch him again…”
He paused.
His eyes were like ice.
“I will kill you.”
My heart stopped.
Dante’s face had gone pale.
“Yes, sir.”
The man released him.
Dante immediately stepped away.
He looked terrified.
I had never seen Dante look like that.
The man didn’t even glance at anyone else.
His attention was on me.
And somehow, that was worse.
Dante started moving toward the café.
I thought it was over.
I thought he was leaving.
But then the man spoke.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Dante stopped.
I looked at him.
He turned around.
“I…”
The man’s expression darkened.
“I’m not talking to you.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“Who the hell is that?”
I froze.
He was asking me.
I stared at him.
What did he expect me to say?
I couldn’t.
My throat closed.
His jaw tightened.
“Are you not going to answer me?”
I looked down.
My fingers started shaking.
“Who the hell is that?”
Tears immediately filled my eyes.
I hated it.
I hated how quickly fear could take over my body.
I didn’t know why he was angry.
I didn’t know why he cared about Dante touching me.
I didn’t understand anything.
I simply stood there.
Silent.
His eyes stayed on me.
Then he sighed.
Not angrily.
Almost impatiently.
“Fine.”
He turned slightly.
“Get in the car.”
I stared at him.
The car?
What car?
I shook my head.
He looked at me.
“I said get in the car.”
I shook my head again.
My café.
My employees.
My customers.
I couldn’t simply leave.
I pointed toward the café.
I tried to explain with my hands.
He watched me.
Then he seemed to understand.
“You want someone to stay here.”
I nodded quickly.
He turned toward the door.
“Raffaele.”
A man stepped forward.
It was the same man I had seen with him before.
The one who always seemed to stay close.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Go inside.”
Raffaele nodded.
“Tell one of the waiters Azul is leaving for a few hours.”
My eyes widened.
I looked at him.
He had already decided.
He wasn’t asking me.
He was telling me.
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere with him.
I wanted to tell him I didn’t even know him.
But my voice—
My stupid voice—
Wouldn’t come.
The man looked at me.
“I said get in the car.”
My eyes filled again.
I was scared.
So scared.
But something about him made arguing feel impossible.
I grabbed my bag.
Untied my apron.
Then followed him outside.
⸻
The black car was waiting at the curb.
He opened the back door.
I hesitated.
Where was he taking me?
I looked at him.
He stared back.
“Get in.”
I slowly climbed inside.
He followed.
The door closed.
Raffaele got into the front.
The driver started the engine.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I sat there with my bag clutched against my chest.
My apron was still tied around my waist.
I hadn’t even remembered to remove it properly.
I looked ridiculous.
A baker sitting in the back of a black car with the most terrifying man I had ever met.
I looked toward the window.
The café disappeared behind us.
My heart sank.
Where were we going?
I looked at him.
He was staring straight ahead.
Calm.
Completely calm.
As though kidnapping a terrified baker in the middle of the afternoon was perfectly normal.
I swallowed.
I wanted to ask.
Where are you taking me?
But I couldn’t.
I looked down at my hands.
They were trembling.
Then his voice came.
“Stop shaking.”
I looked at him.
His expression remained unreadable.
“I won’t hurt you.”
I stared at him.
I didn’t know whether to believe him.
After everything that had happened, how could I?
He looked at me.
For a moment, his eyes softened.
Only slightly.
Then they returned to that cold expression.
“You should have told that man not to touch you.”
I frowned.
I didn’t understand.
He continued.
“You let too many people get close.”
I looked away.
He sighed.
Then silence returned.
The car continued through Palermo.
I had no idea where we were going.
No idea why he had taken me.
No idea what he wanted.
And the worst part?
I still didn’t know his name.
I looked at him again.
He caught me staring.
Our eyes met.
Blue.
Gray.
Dark.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then, very quietly, he said,
“Azul.”
It was the first time he had ever said my name.
Something about hearing it from his mouth made my heart beat strangely.
I looked away.
And for the first time in two months, I wondered something different.
Not Who is this man?
But—
Why does he care so much about me?
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