26. Niccolò
26
NICCOLò
I ’ve tried texting Isabella everyday since the pizzeria, begging her to talk to me, but every time, she blocks me. I’m going on my sixth fucking burner phone. I didn’t want to have this conversation with her via text, but I’m all out of fucking ideas.
With none of the pleasantries—because I know she’ll know it’s me and I don’t want to give her a chance to block me before saying what I need to say—I send a text off to Isabella.
Me: The girl at the pizzeria is Dante’s cousin. She’s visiting from Chicago… not Italy. She’s not who you think she is. Please just let me explain.
My text goes through, and knowing Isabella the way I do, she has her phone on her, so I wait a few minutes before attempting one more text to see if she blocked me.
Me: My dad never had a prospective wife for me. It was all a lie. We need to talk, Isabella.
My heart hammers in my chest while I wait to see if the text will show delivered. After a few more seconds, the words show up under the message, and I let out a sigh of relief.
She didn’t block me.
I wait to see if she responds, but she never does. I’m about to text her again when my other phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“You have an update?” my dad says on the other line.
“My plan is still in motion.”
“If you can’t get me the results I need, I can come up with a different plan,” he snaps.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “You can’t rush this, but don’t worry. Our relationship is about to take a serious turn, so I’ll keep you updated.”
“You better,” he says before hanging up.
I let out an annoyed sigh and go back to my burner phone, frustration hitting me when I don’t see a response from her. I go to text her again when my phone rings again.
“What’s up, Leo?” I answer.
“You’re going to want to get down to Cucina del Sole.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“Your girl is here.”
“With her family?” I ask.
“Ehh, not exactly,” he says, which has me clenching my jaw. If he fucking says what I think he’s about to say…
“Then with whom?” I grind out.
“Maybe you should come down and see for yourself.”
“Leo,” I snap.
There’s a pause on the other end before he finally says, “Bonetti.”
I grip the phone, squeezing it so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break in my hand. “Massimo fucking Bonetti? What the hell is she doing there with him?” I growl.
“Looks like a date to me. I did warn you that this was going to happen.”
“Fuck!” I yell, running my hand through my hair. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” I say, jumping to my feet.
I gave Isabella her space, but enough’s e-fucking-nough. I’m done.