Page 31 of Steal My Heart
Angelo
“Nola will be fine,” the vet announces after the exam.
Nola’s clearly over being poked and prodded, based on her nonstop hissing.
“Remi, why don’t you grab Nola’s treat jar from the kitchen?” I suggest.
“Good idea.” She gives Nola a scratch on the top of the head before walking out.
Grabbing the intercom phone, I call Maks. “Remi è in cucina. Bancarella.”Remi is in the kitchen. Stall.
Now having bought myself some time, I end the call and instruct the vet, “Check Nola for a microchip.”
He pulls out of his bag a scanner, and I help hold steady a pissed off cat as he runs the device where Nola’s neck meets her body.
“Ah, there it is. Let me pull the chip number from the database.” He walks around to a makeshift workstation, typing on his laptop. “Pet name: Nola. Age: a year old. Breed: Savannah F3.”
“What does F3 mean?” I ask.
“Third generation. F1 being the first generation of domestics bred with African Servals. F2s: second generation, with a Serval grandparent. F3, like this girl, has a Serval great-grandparent. The F3 are typically smaller in size and have a more friendly personality than, say, an F1.” He holds up his clawed arms. “I say typically.” He glances back at the screen. “Pet owner: Sienna D’Amico.”
As suspected, naughty Remi stole Nola. But what I didn’t suspect was the name of the former owner.
He spouts off the address and phone number, both of which I already have.
Opening the study’s desk drawer, I retrieve a stack of hundreds. “Remove the chipandthis visit from your memory.”
He eagerly accepts the cash. “Consider both removed.”
Remi
“Oh, hey, Remi.” Alessandra greets me nonchalantly, seated in a boy’s lap. The newcomer has the same shade of hair as Alessandra’s, although he’s wearing more black eyeliner than she is. “This is my boyfriend, Rome. He tagged along with his dad, the vet,” she explains.
He gives me an uninterested, “Whatsup.”
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I smile politely. “I’m just going to grab some treats for Nola.”
With the jar in hand, I turn around to find the driver blocking the exit. “Oh, excuse me.” I try to slide past the intimidating man, but he slaps his hand on the door frame.
“Maks, why are you trying to scare my brother’s girlfriend?” Alessandra asks him.
“I’m not ‘trying’ to scare anyone,” he says with an accent I can’t place. “This the new boyfriend?” His cold eyes land on Rome.
The boyfriend tries to nudge Alessandra off his lap, but she wraps her arms firmly around his neck. “Yes, this is my boyfriend, Rome.” She lifts her chin.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, but he can disappear in one,” Maks says in an eerily calm tone, his eyes never leaving the boyfriend’s.
“Uh, I’ll just wait for my dad in the car.” Rome jumps off the stool, nearly knocking Alessandra onto her ass as he hurries across the room.
Maks lowers his hand from the door frame but doesn’t move, forcing a wide-eyed Rome to squeeze past him sideways.
“Are you happy?” Alessandra hisses, crossing her arms.
“Yoube happy it was me instead of Angelo in this kitchen.” Maks matches Alessandra’s stance with his muscular arms now crossed.
Her eyes narrow to tiny slits. “Like you won’t go narc to my brother like a good little lap dog.”
“I prefer attack dog.” He bares his teeth.
