Chapter 3
LILY
The night sky of Manhattan looks different when we land on the airstrip.
I'd watched the sun dance along the clouds as we flew home, but much of it was a blur. Ara had tried to speak to me a few times, but I didn’t have the capacity to reply.
She'd settled for sitting outside the bathroom on the plane while I showered and put on a dress so I didn’t feel so vulnerable, only wearing my bikini.
Vulnerable.
Life and death. I’d never seen a man die. Never had my life flash in front of my eyes either.
If I die today, would I be happy with my life? My accomplishments, my impact? Have I lived a happy, authentic life?
It’s terrifying how silent everything becomes after that question. But then, when I try to pull away from that lingering insight, I fall into another abyss where I can’t quite compartmentalize what I just witnessed, let alone process that my friends are clearly not who they claim to be.
Should I be scared of them?
Should I run away?
Yet I’m resistant to fearing her or feeling betrayed.
Even if I don’t know all of her secrets, does that change the person I thought she was?
I should let her explain herself, because isn’t she still my friend?
But part of me is scared to hear her out, knowing it could change everything I thought I once knew about her.
My thoughts continue to loop as I sit in a numbness that seeped into me after the explosion.
I simply sit and stare, unable to come up with any answers.
“Lily?” Ara’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I blink once. Then twice. “You’ll be safe here. Luca owns this hotel. We just need to sort out a few things, and then I’ll be back so we can discuss this properly, okay? I’ll explain everything.”
I look outside the car window and up at the glamorous hotel positioned centrally in the city I love most. But somehow the city doesn’t feel as radiant. I feel tarnished in some way, still praying that I wake up from this nightmare.
When did we even get here?
I look into the rearview mirror, where dark-brown eyes study me. Lorenzo is staring at me from the driver’s seat. The moment we make eye contact, I avert my gaze.
Deadly.
This man is dangerous.
I want to be anywhere but here, and this time, I should listen to my instinct to run.
I vaguely recall him hovering around me over the past few hours, hushed words being exchanged, then voices raised on the flight.
Lorenzo was the one I had to block out the most, as I recalled multiple times the way he'd protected me.
How at ease he is with a gun. Without thought, he'd come between me and the men who'd swerved to hit me.
What if he'd been hurt or killed trying to protect me? What if they’d been successful in hitting me?
A chill runs over my skin, and I'm aware that his gaze still lingers on me. No, I have the distinct impression that a man like Lorenzo can’t be killed.
I don’t know him well, but watching him in action in that situation, being pushed back by flames and standing as if it were no more than a scratch.
This man was built for this kind of life… whatever this life is.
“Miss?” the valet says, and I blink back into the now as he offers his hand to help me out of the car.
“Lily,” Ara calls out again from behind me. When I turn to face her, I can see the worry in her expression. “I'll be back, and I’ll explain everything. I promise you. You’re safe here.”
Safe?
I nod numbly, because as of twelve hours ago, that was never something I even questioned.
Who is Arabella Barone? I know she’s been one of my best friends for almost three years now, and realizing I might not know her as well as I thought hurts.
It’s also confusing, and I just can’t process any of it.
My legs carry me into the hotel lobby and to the reception desk, where I’m checked in and then escorted directly to a room on the top floor.
The concierge says something about calling upon him if I need anything, but right now, I just need to be alone. The moment he excuses himself from the room, I expect to feel a sense of relief, but it doesn’t come.
I barely appreciate the chic suite that offers a plush king-size bed in shades of white and beige.
I peel off my dress and throw it over the corner of the couch, then vacantly walk toward the bathroom.
It's adorned with gleaming marble, a gold-framed floor-to-ceiling mirror, luxurious products, and a light that’s too bright. Too polished. Too perfect.
Everything just feels too much.
I turn off the light and run the water into the claw-footed bathtub. It’s barely an inch full of water as I sit and bend my legs to my chest. Goose bumps erupt over my skin as I wait for the water to rise, but I welcome the chill and bite of the air.
What ugly secret have I been exposed to? Like a coward, I didn’t ask Ara any further questions.
I rest my head to the side, looking at myself in the mirror beside the basin.
A streak of light from the bedroom seeps in, revealing a version of myself I don’t like.
I’m a mess. My hair, matted in some areas, usually has a glossy curl to it.
Even in this predicament, in a time of uncertainty and fear, I startlingly realize I haven't even thought about calling my family.
I don’t have anyone I can confide in. Maybe my other best friends, Romi or Sienna, but I don’t want to drag them into any of this mess. Plus, they’re friends with Ara as well. I can’t involve anyone else until I know the truth.
I hate it here.
This reality.
This fear.
This isolation.
It’s as if I’m waiting for something more powerful and courageous within me to click into place, to make sense of it all and handle the situation. But the further I delve into myself, the more I realize there isn’t a deeper substance. It’s chilling how empty I feel inside.
Am I truly this weak?
Is my existence truly this insubstantial?
Suddenly, that feels far scarier than almost being killed.