Page 127 of Goldsin

“Well, I am a man.” He sticks his button nose up in the air.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were a gentleman.” I rest ahand on my chest. “My mistake. I was certain you were one.”

He stomps his little foot on the floor, and I try my best not to smirk at his little scrunched-up face. “I am!”

Just then, the guy moves, and I remember we aren’t alone. He turns his head slightly to the side, enough for me to catch the smirk appearing on his lips at our conversation. I trail my gaze at what little I can see of him.

Waves of dark golden hair combed backward and tanned skin. He’s too young to be the father, but from the way he holds himself he appears older than me. But not in age. He appears mature, like someone who’s been holding a heavy weight on their shoulders for most of their life.

Old in spirit.

“What’s your name?” I ask the littlegentleman.

“You can call me?—”

The doors to the elevator open, and I gasp as I watch him get pulled out of it by the hand, leaving him scurrying behind the guy as he leads him away. They’re about to turn the corner, the elevator doors closing, when he shouts back at me with the brightest of smiles, “Ciao,ciumachella!”

I watch, stunned. Then a sudden chuckle bursts out of me before I can suppress it, warmth spreading through me despite what I’m heading up to do. I wave at the little disappearing figure as the doors close and silence fills the space once again. His upbeat presence is still palpable as my lips twitch with the residue of a laugh.

That was the strangest encounter,yet it was exactly what I needed to lift the weight from my shoulders before going to murder someone.

What did he call me?Chiumakel?No.Chiukella, maybe?

All I got was the typical Italian word used for greetings and goodbyes. He must be here on vacation. Seattle is usually packed with tourists for the summer, but since we’re a week away from September, this is the perfect time to visit. Less crowds, and the hotel prices are significantly lower.

At Victoria’s floor the elevator doors slide open.

I’m greeted by a vast living room with an elegant stone design on the walls framing the French doors to a balcony. Cream-colored sofas and vases with blooming plants stand in the middle of the room.

The layout is somewhat similar to the room I was in with DeMarco, only this one has enough space for a cocktail party, and the other for a dead body only.

Walking around the space, I let my fingers brush the softness of the deep red curtains, the unexpected roughness of the rose jute material of the cushions, and the plushness of the couch situated in the middle of the room. The same vase that was in DeMarco’s room is perched on a vanity, a bouquet of sunflowers arranged inside of it, and my lips curve at the memory. A melodic lullaby threatens to push past my lips in the form of a whistle, but that would be too creepy even for me.

Instead I strip bare.

With each step I take I undress, leaving each piece of clothing scattered on thefloor.

Breadcrumbs for Victoria to follow.

I arrive at the primary bedroom completely naked. Pulling my hair up in a ponytail, I stand in front of the full-length mirror admiring the woman I’ve carved myself into. They may have chosen my life path for me, but everything else I am is thanks to me. My resolve, my strength, and my anger—I built it.

The tips of my fingers skim the pink scar on my neck. I angle my head, carefully roaming my eyes over it.

“You’re next,” I say under my breath. “I’m coming for you.”

I slip into the adjoining bathroom, grabbing a white robe, which I drape over my shoulders. I leave the belt around my waist loose to reveal some skin as the robe hangs slightly open in the middle.

Walking back to the bedroom, I sit on a plush chair just as the sound of the elevator doors opening breaks the silence, followed by the click-clack of high heels.

“I hope you didn’t wait too long.” Her voice booms, echoing through the penthouse.

I don’t answer.

“Aurelia? Where are?—?”

She just found my light blue blouse.

And my white skirt.

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