Chapter 10
Present
SKIN AGAINST SKIN.
Breathing the same air.
I bit my lip.
His hand in my hair.
Pulling just right.
I pressed my thighs together.
His rough hand brushing over my sensitive skin.
Touching me where he shouldn’t have.
My fingers moved over my necklace.
The pink, diamond heart above my own.
My pulse wasn’t hammering. Instead, it was slow; steady. Calm and sensual. Just the way he touched me.
The way he always spoke to me. Low and deep.
‘Happy birthday.’
‘You’re the first to tell me.’
He had been the first to tell me on my correct birth date – February fourteenth. And I didn’t know how to feel about it.
‘What’s my prize?’
‘What do you want?’
Especially when he acted like an asshole afterward. I fisted the pink pendant in my hand.
‘That puts you in my way. Watch your back.’
“Is this seat taken?”
I looked up to see a guy; golden hair, blue eyes, non-threatening, somewhat shy. Nothing like him .
“No.”
“You mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Kyle.” Taking a seat, he offered his hand, which I took.
“Natalia.”
“Nice to meet you. So, what made you pick this awful class?”
I laughed. Communication studies . “An easy pass. You?”
“Overcoming social anxiety.” He chuckled, facing the front and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Good for you. That’s not easy.”
Kyle turned back to me, surprised by my answer. “Thanks. What’s your major?”
“Computer Science. You?”
“Ugh… Paleontology. Kind of stupid–”
“Not at all. Dinosaurs, right? They’re pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” He exhaled a laugh in somewhat relief.
“You ever study in the campus library?” When he nodded, I continued. “We should study together.”
“For sure. Would love to.”
“Great.” I beamed, happy I’d just made my first friend at Columbia. “I’m usually there during lunchtime, or after hours.”
He smiled wider. “I’ll make sure to find you the next time I go.”
“It’s a date–”
“ You’re in my seat .” A deep, pissed-off voice interrupted our conversation. Kyle looked up as a shadow overcame him, his face draining of color.
Turning in my seat, I found exactly who I knew I would.
Trevor stood behind me; his varsity jacket on, the number ‘one’ splayed across the side of his chest. Behind him, Zach and the rest of the basketball team; all in varsity jackets too, some with backward hats.
My nails dug into the cushion of the chair. “Are you kidding me? There’s like a hundred other seats–”
“It’s okay. I’ll go.” Kyle was already standing.
I got up too. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, thanks.” He replied quickly before glancing at Trevor and the basketball team.
Shocked, I stood there, watching Kyle hurry off and take a seat across the room, on the furthest possible seat. Though, I was slightly relieved when I saw him talking to the others around him.
“Not as stupid as he looks.” Trevor’s drawl brought me back.
I turned back to him. “What is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with you ?” He retorted, stepping closer, and making me take a step back.
“ Trevor .” Both he and I turned to look at Zach, who nodded towards the front of the lecture as he took a seat in the row above me. Everyone else on the team was already sat either in the rows above, below or across the small stairs’ aisle.
Facing the front, I saw the professor, his arms crossed and waiting for Trevor and me to sit down so he could begin the lecture. Everyone else in the class was silent and in their seats, watching us.
I immediately sat down, embarrassed.
Trevor was next, taking the seat next to me, on the outside of the row, near the aisle of the stairs. So relaxed , as if it was his birthright to delay the lecture. He didn’t even take the seat he made Kyle get up from.
As the professor began talking, Trevor man-spread into the seat, taking up excessive space. His knee grazing mine. His arm on the back of my chair .
Guess that happened when you were not only the heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire, but also a mafia prince.
I knew a lot more about the real him now. And suddenly everything about him and his behavior made sense.
He was an arrogant, self-entitled, Machiavellian criminal.
Glancing to my other side, I eyed the empty seats left on my row. When the professor turned his back to the class in order to write on the board, I got up to move.
I only made it a couple of inches off my seat, before a strong arm forced me back down, causing me to fall into him with a soft thud.
Trevor’s arm, which had been on the back of my seat, was now wrapped around my waist, pressing me into him. Large muscles flexed around my soft middle. His rough palm slid lower, curling around my jeans-covered thigh and squeezing , his fingers grazing the inside of it. Way too close to the weight settling between my legs.
“ Don’t. Even. Think. About. It .” He spoke without even looking at me.
I was surprised my glare didn’t burn right through his chiseled side profile.
“I don’t like you.”
Trevor turned to face me, leaning in so close I had to lean back, as he caged me in. And for a moment, his eyes dropped to my pink-heart pendant, then lower , sending a flush across my face and chest at the reminder of the other night.
“I'll take that as a challenge,” He murmured, deep and low, so only I could hear.
His words scared me.
He wasn’t going to leave me alone anytime soon.
“ Miss Moretti .”
My head snapped to the front.
“Care to share what’s more interesting than the science of body language?” The professor sarcastically asked me, while having no problem with Trevor practically occupying half of my seat. “Didn’t think so.”
“ Figlio di puttana ,” I muttered under my breath when he turned back around to write on the board.
I felt Trevor’s mouth press against my ear before I heard his words. “Careful, Miss Perfect. Your mask is slipping.”
I skipped my next class.
The really prestigious course, super hard to get into, advanced coding class with Dr Davis, that I’d been extremely lucky to get accepted into?
Yeah. For multiple reasons.
I didn’t feel like being around Trevor. My heart had been beating out of my chest the entire time, and I was tired of constantly fixing my posture or hair because I knew he was watching me.
Him touching me in that dark hallway, at my birthday – and me not pushing him away – had started something catastrophic, that was spinning out of control at lightning speed, with every second we spent around each other.
I prided myself on being smart. I always knew what to do.
Trevor prided himself on being analytical. He never did something illogical.
Yet here we were. Both of us, doing something we knew we weren’t supposed to do.
But the moment he was looking at me, I started asking myself, Why not?
His touch made all reason leave my head. It was purely physical. A fatal attraction.
But more importantly, I had much more important things to do. Such as badgering cops at the NYPD on information regarding Maria’s case.
They said if you didn’t find someone within twenty-four hours, the chances of finding them alive dropped by ninety percent.
Maria had been officially classified as disappearing for almost three months now.
I hated to admit that my hopes that she had simply run away and she was fine as always, were slimming with each day.
I was scared.
There was not a single piece of information or evidence in her case.
It was almost as if she… Disappeared.
Chaos swarmed all around me as I made my way through the downtown police station, my pink heels clicking behind me.
Phones ringing left and right. Loud talking and shouting. People coming and going; some eating at their desks, going through folders, or answering calls.
I didn’t bother to knock on the door with a sign reading Chief of Department ; I stormed in.
“Miss Moretti, what a pleasure,” Chief Johnson drawled from his chair behind the desk, not even bothering to look up. It was anything but a pleasure for either of us.
I sat down on the chair opposite his desk like I owned the place. “Any updates?”
“If there were, I would’ve let you know.”
“Must I remind you that my father is paying you very serious money to find Maria Pérez and bring her home?”
His hands hit the desk. “You got any idea what kind of strings I’m pulling for you and your father? I got twenty Detectives from the FBI’s Missing Persons Unit out looking for this girl.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s not enough.”
“She’s nowhere to be found. She’s gone. Poof . Nothing.”
“Not my problem–”
“ Niente .”
Did this motherfucker just speak chopped Italian to me?
Pushing off the chair, I set my hands on his desk and leaned down, towering over him. “Let me make this perfectly clear for you, Chief. If you don’t find her, it’s your head on the fucking line.”
“I think you mean my career,” He scoffed, taking a sip of coffee.
I smirked. “ No .”
Ring.
The phone on his desk disturbed the silence, though I didn’t look away or back off once.
He swallowed dryly, pulling on his collar and answering the call. “What?”
It was only a moment before his eyes met mine again.
And I knew.
“Alright. We’ll be right there.” Hanging up, he turned to me. “Miss Moretti, please come with me.”
My heart seized to beat as I followed behind him, unaware of how I was moving my feet. I floated, a horrible feeling clouded over me as we entered the evidence room.
Three cops and two specialists wearing lab coats were already waiting for us.
“We found this washed up on the shore of South Beach,” One of the officers spoke.
The woman in a lab coat opened up the black Nike backpack, which I recognized immediately. Inside, soaked dollar bills, some ruined school notebooks and a wallet.
Her wallet.
Tears prickled at my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.
The specialist carefully opened up the wallet with her gloves, allowing me to look inside.
Maria’s ID.
A tightness formed in my chest, climbing up and squeezing around my neck.
“This is her, right?” Chief Johnson asked from my side.
I shook my head.
“No?”
“No. I mean, yes , it’s hers, but…” I shook my head, faster this time.
“Miss Moretti…”
“No. No way.”
“Miss–”
“I know she’s alive.”
“ Natalia .”
“So? This could mean anything. Maybe she dropped it off a bridge or something.”
Chief Johnson took a deep breath. “We have to be logical about this. Natalia–”
I couldn’t stay in that room a second longer.
Breathing shakily through the panic infesting my chest, I rushed through the hallways until I made it out into the station’s main room. Chief Johnson followed behind me.
“Miss Moretti…”
“This means nothing!” I spun around, facing him. “You will keep looking for her. Am I understood?”
I could read his face.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
“ Am. I. Understood. ” My voice boomed through the station, causing everyone around us to quiet down as several cops turned to watch us.
Another moment passed, and I quickly brought my hand up to wipe off a tear that slipped down my cheek.
“Yes, Miss Moretti. We’ll find her. I’ll get more detectives on the case.”
The heaviness in my chest didn’t go away when I walked out of the NYPD station. Not when I walked aimlessly down the street, or the whole of Central Park – the way I always did when upset. A walk Maria and I used to take to relax and wind down.
People weren’t declared dead until a year passed after their disappearance.
It wouldn’t be until nine months later that I would receive the dreaded phone call from Chief Johnson, in that same park, at the famous ice-rink.
I’m sorry, Miss Moretti. There’s nothing else we can do.