9. Neve
CHAPTER NINE
Neve
N evio and Dalila drive me home, dropping me off underground right near the elevator.
“I’ll walk you to your door.” Nevio says, pushing his door open and getting ready to climb out. “Don’t be silly. This place is like a fortress. I’ll be fine. Thank you guys so much for an awesome night out. I really enjoyed it.” I smile.
“Sorry about my brother.” Dalila sighs.
“It’s ok, honestly. It’s nothing to worry about.” I brush it off, acting nonchalant. But the problem is that I am worried about it .
I’m worried about how fucking attracted I am to him.
He has this mannerism about him I can’t ignore. He’s magnetic. Demanding. Obsessive and possessive. I’ve never had a guy pursue me so intensely before and it’s fucking hot.
“Message me when you get upstairs.” Dalila says sternly.
“Yes, mom.” I laugh, climbing out of the car.
“Hey.” Dalila shouts through the window. “I’m serious.”
“I know. I will. Bye guys.” I wave before I step through the door and into the building.
The place is quiet. I climb into the elevator and for a moment I fantasize about Celso blocking the door before it closes all the way. I close my eyes and lean my head against the stainless steel wall.
He pushes his way into the elevator and shoves me up against the wall, his hand locked around my throat. I cry out, my eyes wild with fright. His breath is hot against my mouth as he growls. “You will enjoy this, my angel.” His other hand brushes up my body, dragging my dress higher as he leans into me, his cock hard against my stomach. His muscular, broad shoulders towering over me.
“Get off me, asshole.” I mutter, feebly pushing him away. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.
He chuckles. “Don’t lie to me, angel. Stop fighting this.” His hand pushes between my legs and his finger dips inside me.
I gasp in fright when the elevator chimes, the doors sliding open on the top floor, right outside my door.
“ What the fuck was that ?” I mutter to myself, self consciously tugging my dress down.
Once I’m safely in my apartment I message Dalila a picture of myself sticking my tongue at her while I stand in my kitchen, the kettle boiling behind me so I can make a cup of tea before I crawl into bed.
While I’m waiting, I tug my dress off and toss it over one of the bar chairs under the kitchen counter.
I already kicked my high heels off at the door so now I’m standing in only my underwear enjoying the cool night air against my skin .
I guess I should hop in the shower too. I’m a little sweaty from dancing.
An image of Celso pressed against my naked body flashes through my mind.
“Holy shit, girl. Get yourself under control.”
I decide to shower before I make the tea because I’m hoping the cold water will clear these intense thoughts I’m having about my best friends brother. The one I promised her I wouldn’t get involved with. The one I already know would be a bad idea to be involved with.
Climbing under the warm flow of water I sigh with pleasure.
I’d only get my heart broken. There is nothing good that can come from dating a fuck boy like him. He’d sleep with me - get bored - move on.
Although even a one-night stand with him would be fucking hot. And Dalila wouldn’t need to find out.
No, Neve. Stop it.
I push the shower handle all the way to the cold side and squeal loudly when the temperature changes and icy water falls all over my body. But the shock of it clears my mind.
It’s exactly what I need and when I head back into the kitchen with a big towel around me, dripping water from my feet and walking carefully so I don’t slip - I feel better. More focused.
The tea bag swooshes around in my mug as I carry it to my room. I always leave the tea bag in because I prefer strong tea. Sweet and strong.
The towel drops to the floor and I flick the covers back, wiggling my naked body beneath the sheets, pulling them up around my chin. The cold shower left me cold. Which I guess was the whole point of it.
My thoughts simmer down as I sit in my bed, cradling my tea mug in my hand and letting the ceramic warm my fingers.
Celso seems hell bent on winning me over. He’s been telling me for years now that I belong to him and one day he’ll make it happen.
I usually brush his comments off, ignoring them or make a joke about them - but lately it’s becoming more intense and of course, I’ve been enjoying his obsession a little more.
It’s stupid of me, to play with fire like this, but I can’t help it. He makes me feel a certain way that I’m quickly learning is how I want to feel. I want a guy to be that into me. Excited to be with me. Determined and forceful.
A thought strikes me.
Out of the blue.
It makes me gasp and freeze in horror.
How far would Celso go to make sure that I become his?
I never took his obsession seriously, but I should have. All this time maybe he wasn’t joking.
What would he be willing to do to have me?
Make my fiancé disappear?
My throat tightens and I can’t even swallow my tea.
I set the mug down and sit up higher in bed. No. I’m being crazy. Celso is my best friend’s brother.
It’s not like he isn’t capable.
Murder?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
No. This is not helping.
I need to sleep, not get all wild and crazy in my thoughts staying awake for hours unable to process them.
I huff and snuggle down into the bed, pulling the covers over my shoulders.
Go to sleep, Neve.
The constant beat of my phone’s ringtone infiltrates my dreams. For a while it doesn’t register as anything I need to pay attention to. But it won’t stop.
I blink my eyes open and realize it wasn’t a dream, it’s my phone - and it’s still ringing.
In a hurry I reach out to grab it, squinting to see the time. Five AM.
My father.
My father never phones me this early.
“Dad?” I mumble into the phone, my voice croaky with sleep .
“Honey are you awake? His voice was strained and tight. It makes me nervous.
“I am now?” I clear my throat and sit up, rubbing my eyes while my heart races faster, nervous for whatever this call is about.
“Neve, they found Damion.” He says, almost a whisper.
“That’s great.” I say excitedly. “Where was he - what did he say?”
“No, sorry - I mean - they found his body. What’s left of it.”
“What’s left of it?” I mumble, not able to process. “What do you mean?”
“He’s dead sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“No, he can’t be?—”
“You need to be at the house at ten. We have a reporter coming over and we are going to give a controlled statement. Don’t say a word to anyone about it. We don’t need more rumors starting and the media getting out of control again.”
He’s still talking but I’m not taking any of it in. I’m in shock. Numb and cold and shaking .
Looking down at my hands I try my best to force my eyes to focus so that my mind can focus too.
But he’s dead.
What’s left of him.
What is left of him?
“What happened to him?” I ask, interrupting my dad.
“It’s best you come here. We can talk in person.”
“No, tell me now. I need to know.”
“All that’s left is his head. Whoever did this to him cut it off.”
My blood runs cold, ice spiking through my body.
I can’t hold the phone anymore and it slips from my hands, landing in the blankets. My father’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away now.
“Neve? Neve ? For fuck sakes. Be here at ten.”
Silence.
He hung up.
I still can’t move.
My hands are shaking so badly I clench them into tight fists, pushing my nails into the palm of my hands and trying to use the pain to pull myself back into my body.
I take in one sharp breath - and start crying.
Damion’s dead.
I kept telling everyone that something bad had happened, but maybe I didn’t believe that myself. Someone murdered him. It wasn’t even an accident. People don’t accidentally cut off other people’s heads.
The nausea comes out of nowhere and I have to run for the bathroom.
Wave after wave I heave up every single thing left in my stomach. Bile burning my throat and the effort of puking causing my eyes to water.
At ten o’clock I march straight into my father’s house, as numb as stone on the inside, I walk straight over to him and say, “It was Celso Vece.” With all the force I can muster.
“Are you fucking crazy?” My father hisses, grabbing my arm his fingers dig into my skin and I think - later I’ll be bruised .
I try to pull my arm away, but his grip is like steel as he pulls me into another room.
“There are fucking reporters everywhere. Why the fuck would you say something like that?” he whispers.
“Because Celso did something to Damion, dad. Believe me. He killed Damion. We can’t let him get away with this. We have to go to the police.”
Tears are flowing freely down my cheeks while I speak.
My father sets one sharp slap across my face and it freezes all of my emotions in place.
I stare at him in disbelief.
He lifts his finger and points it right into my face.
“You don’t dare breathe a word of this pathetic idea to anyone. Do you understand me? I don’t want to hear a single fucking this about this again.” He’s furious.
“Are we going to let him get away with murder?” I plead.
My father snarls .
“Dad, if you listen—” he slaps me again and I bite the inside of my lip, the sharp metallic taste of blood touches my tongue.
“Not - a - fucking - word - Neve.” My father says, spelling each work out for me with the way he is enunciating them.
I stare at him.
“Do you understand?” he shakes me.
I nod.
“Get a hobby. Stop thinking stupid thoughts.” He mutters, releasing me and walking away.
I stare after him with so much anger inside me I can’t move.
Anger and confusion and grief.
Damion didn’t deserve this.
Who would have done this to him?
I can’t think of anyone but Celso.
For the longest time I just stand there, not knowing what to do because I can’t talk to anyone about it and I can’t face any reporters that my father has lined up and I still can’t move .
“Neve?” A soft voice draws my attention and I look up to see one reporter. My heart sinks.
“Please, I don’t want to answer questions.” I stammer.
“I wanted to see if you were ok. I mean, it can’t be easy.” The girl walks into the room, standing close to me, tentatively she reaches out and wraps her arm around my shoulder.
“I—”
“It’s ok, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” She says, and I lean my face against her shoulder, sobbing massive tears as I fall apart.
It took me about fifteen minutes to pull myself back together after I broke down.
My father came into the room, glared at me, and demanded that I attend the interview he’d set up. The reporter stepped away from me in a hurry and left the room and I was forced to pull myself together.
That was several hours ago.
Now I’m back home and watching myself on the television. My eyes are red and swollen and my face is blotchy on the screen.
I shrink down into my sofa, horrified about how bad I look, horrified that everyone is willing to brush this off and not discuss what is really going on and horrified that my father - knowing full well what the mafia is capable of - doesn’t even want to consider that it might be true.
He’s more worried about his campaign than Damion.
Damion is dead my thoughts brutally remind me.
All that’s left is his head.
Over the next three days I don’t leave my apartment. I can’t face the world outside.
On the news I watch the story unfold as the uncover bit by bit of what happened to him.
A car is pulled out of a lake. The rest of his body is found in the car.
The medical guys speculate that his head was decapitated during an accident. I don’t believe it for one second .
Cause of death is ruled accidental, and the world has a moment of mourning and the story is over.
Just like that.
Everyone forgets Damion because it’s no longer exciting anymore.
Another three days goes past and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with myself. I’m falling apart. I’m lost. I’m worried.
And worse - I’m still falling asleep thinking about Celso.
What is wrong with me I’m so attracted to the man I believe is a murderer?