Chapter 4 Niccolò
Ilook up at the squat apartment building, shocked. If I lived here, I’d let someone kidnap me too, no questions asked. It looks more like it should have been condemned years ago than a place people actually live in. I barely know this girl and suddenly I’m feeling protective over her.
I push the main door open without even needing to use a key.
There’s no lock, no doorman, nothing to keep her safe from any outside forces.
I step inside, taking in the cramped mailboxes lining one wall.
One door sits on each of the other three walls.
From the outside, I never would have guessed there were three apartments on each floor.
I head up the stairs, scanning every little imperfection.
The second I see exposed wires hanging out of the wall lining the stairway, I make a rash decision.
She’s not living here ever again. I don’t care if I have to keep her locked in our home like a hostage.
She is never coming back to this dump. It’s not safe and for better or worse she’s our responsibility right now.
I can’t just throw her out and expect her to go back to a place like this.
On the third and final floor, I unlock the door with the keys I got from her bag.
I wrinkle my nose as I step into the dingy studio that smells mostly like mildew.
The smell is mixed with the artificial vanilla scent of cheap candles.
I see them scattered everywhere, half-burned.
I don’t think adding fire to this waiting disaster is a good idea.
My feet carry me to the kitchen, and I yank open the cabinet under the sink, finding a box of trash bags.
I start packing by shoving all her clothes in.
When I open her underwear drawer, I freeze, just for a second.
I can’t help but imagine her in some of the lace.
Some of the pieces are lingerie. Sexy little pieces that have me wondering how good she would look in them.
I feel like such a pervert imagining all her skin on display.
Laid out on a bed with pleasure playing across her expression.
Jealousy strikes me deep in my gut as I wonder who she has worn these for before.
I shove it all in the bag with white-knuckled fists.
It’s none of my business and I have no right to feel this way.
She is a practical stranger but for some reason I feel drawn to her.
After knowing her for less than twenty-four hours.
I need therapy. I probably just have mommy issues because my mom never really loved me.
As the second born son I didn’t really matter. I wasn’t necessary.
In the older days people believed it was good to have two sons so there was always a spare if something happened to the first one. My mom was never under that belief. She hated that Vin and I got along so well and that he shielded me from a lot of the family business.
Grandma and grandpa didn’t care either way as long as Vin planned to take over the family and I agreed to do it in his stead if anything happened to Vin.
That family is vile. I say that knowing that I’m a part of that family.
I’m glad that Viviana’s poliziotto1 took them down and arrested half the family.
They don’t deserve to be free after the way they planned an assassination for Viviana.
I shake my head, now isn’t the time to be thinking about these kinds of things.
Moving on to the bathroom, I pack away all of her toiletries, though I’m definitely leaving behind the shampoo. I’m pretty sure she bought this at the dollar store. I’ll just give her the extra bottles of mine that I haven’t opened yet.
Everything else is garbage. It’s all dingy and replaceable.
My eyes catch on a cluster of framed photos in the living room.
She’d taken extra care to mention them, so I wrap them in her shirts before placing them in the bag.
They are all of a younger Harper with a pretty woman who looks so much like her that it must be her mother.
There are no photos of her father anywhere to be found.
The photos stop when she can’t be older than ten.
My curiosity is killing me wondering why there’s no newer photos. Did something happen to her mom?
I move on to checking every cabinet, every drawer, and every corner, but there’s nothing that can’t be replaced. More like nothing that shouldn’t be replaced. Everything is slightly chipped or worn to the point that most people would have thrown them away by now.
I decide to leave everything else behind.
The chipped plates and bowls can be replaced by better ones.
The threadbare blankets and towels are just a few washes away from disintegrating.
When she’s able to leave our house, I’ll pay to fully finish a better apartment for her and get her everything she possibly needs.
Hell, I’ll buy a whole damn apartment building just so I can charge her less rent.
It would be a good investment and a nice way to apologize for this whole kidnapping thing.
This place is abysmal, and I have no idea how this is all she can afford while working two jobs. Though I’m not sure what she actually does outside of the ride-share app. She did mention having another job earlier.
I lug the full trash bag down the stairs, and nobody even peeks out to see what all the racket is. Yeah. She’ll come back here over my dead body. No way in hell.