13. Acts of Service #3
“Aria? What’s going on? Security just reported Santino outside your building. Are you okay?”
I narrowed my eyes as Sani blew me a kiss before pretending I blew one back to him, catching the imaginary air and pressing it to his chest. He leaned back as if he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. The man was a complete lunatic.
“I’m fine,” I answered, pulling the curtains sharply across the window in response to his over-the-top display. I heard the roar of his engine and listened as it gradually faded into a distant rumble. “He’s gone.”
My father let out an exasperated breath down the phone as I walked back through my flat, searching for any clues or signs that he had broken in or left anything else behind.
All the windows were still closed, and there was no forced entry on the door.
The balcony doors were locked from the inside.
I shook my head, pressing my hand against my forehead because I felt like I was going mad.
“Unfortunately, driving down your street isn’t a crime. He’s clever. He’s threatening you without actually threatening you, but I’m worried, Aria. This isn’t going to stop. You should pack your belongings and move in with me.”
“No,” I argued, detesting the idea of losing the last bit of my freedom.
I could just about cope with the bodyguards and the surveillance because I still had this flat.
I still had a place where I was left alone and could feel normal.
I gritted my teeth as I listened to my father’s very logical argument that I wasn’t safe and that, because Santino hadn’t actually done anything I could press charges against, we were in a tricky situation.
But that wasn’t technically true, was it? Why was I protecting this psycho?
“He has my phone number, and I think he’s been in my apartment today.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could consider the consequences. “He’s still sending me flowers, and he’s shown up at the hospital twice without security knowing.”
There was a heavy silence as I held my breath.
“I’m coming over,” Papi growled, his voice full of barely restrained rage. “And I’m bringing the polizia with me.” He hung up the phone, and I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.
I’d done the right thing, hadn’t I? It was time to stop burying my head in the sand and expecting a different outcome.
My father was right. Santino Buccini would not leave me alone until he had enough to blackmail my father.
And I didn’t trust myself to be put in another situation where I was alone with the man.
I needed someone to keep him away from me because the horrifying truth was too absurd to comprehend.
I’d looked forward to his flower deliveries and the handwritten notes.
I searched for him in the corridors at work, hoping he might appear and press me up against a dark corner.
He’d somehow gotten so far beneath my skin that he didn’t even leave my mind when my eyes closed.
I’d dream of him. Of the filthy things he’d do to me.
The dirty words that had me writhing in my sleep.
And sometimes, the worst of all, I’d dream we were actually together and ridiculously in love.
Picking flowers on walks, eating breakfast together, and doing normal, revolting ‘couply’ things.
Those were terrifying. And it all had to stop.
Within half an hour, I was sitting on the sofa opposite my father and the police commissioner, giving a statement.
I started from the beginning, explaining the massage but leaving out the happy ending because just no.
With my papi’s burning glare on me, I might have downplayed the balcony too, saying we simply talked, and I also omitted the whole steamy humping against the bathroom wall in the hospital until we both came.
There were just some things a father should never hear about his daughter.
Commissioner Marrone listened carefully, taking notes while he also recorded our conversation. When I finished explaining today’s events, he looked up with a frown.
“And have you noticed anything missing?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“So, you believe Signor Buccini entered your property without permission, filled your fridge with food, organised your laundry, and ran you a bath.”
I exhaled, realising how ridiculous it sounded. “Si. He said he was taking care of his woman.”
“And you have the text messages to prove this?”
I nodded, pulling out my phone to open the message thread, but they weren’t there. My forehead creased as I frantically scrolled through my phone trying to find them, but the entire conversation had vanished.
“I don’t understand,” I mumbled. “They’re gone.”
“Gone?” My papi stood up, strolling over to me and grabbing my phone out of my hands. “That’s impossible. Only you could delete them.”
Commissioner Marrone sighed. “Signorina Caruso, if you don’t mind, I need to ask you some questions to make things a little clearer.”
I agreed, but my fingers still trembled as I took the phone back from my papi. How the hell did Santino erase our entire conversation from my phone? As far as I was aware, you could only delete messages from an actual device itself, and I’d had mine with me ever since he drove away.
“Has Signor Buccini threatened you?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it, slowly shaking my head.
“Has he ever physically harmed you?”
“No.”
“Has he damaged any of your property?”
I swallowed, glancing around the apartment. “No, but—”
“He broke in!” My father interrupted.
“We will be checking the property’s surveillance footage, Mayor Caruso, but until then, there is no sign of forced entry or evidence that he has been on the premises.”
My father started pacing behind the sofa, frustration crawling up his skin, making him too restless to stay still.
“Signorina Caruso, do I have it correct that there have been five physical meetings between you and Signor Buccini?”
I quickly counted them in my head. “Si. The spa, the fundraiser, he’s shown up at my work twice, and then today outside my apartment. But there could have been more that I’m not aware of .”
“He’s been driving past her apartment every morning this week. My security has reported it.”
“I have spoken with ?security, but they said that the motorcycles have been different each morning. How are they able to identify that it is, in fact, Signor Buccini?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Papi to find him grinding his jaw. “It was him. Why aren’t you listening?”
“I am,” Marrone said with a calmness that came with years working under pressure. He clearly wasn’t going to let my father rattle him. “But it’s important I get all the facts.”
“The fact is Santino Buccini is stalking my daughter. That should be enough for you to take this seriously.”
“Believe me, Mayor. I’m taking this very seriously.
” His eyes flicked back to me, and he offered a supportive smile, but it didn’t help me feel any less like an idiot.
I knew how this all sounded. Every time I opened my mouth, more ridiculousness poured out.
“How would you describe your relationship with Santino Buccini?”