Page 9 of The Diávolos: Part Two
“I’ve already warned Hen.”
My brows lift. “You already spoke to Hendrick?”
Gianis glares. “You’re not the only one with friends in the Big A.”
“Fair.” I smirk, but it quickly fades. “How is she?” I ask, no longer able to keep the question to myself. I don’t have to tell him who I’m referring to, he already knows.
He avoids eye contact as he gives me a tight-lipped response. “She’s good.”
“Gamoto, Gianis. Give me more. You know I need more.”
I sound like a desperate fuck, but he’s my only source of knowing what’s going on with Angelica. Gianis gets to talk to her, see her in the fucking daylight. I’ve watched her smile up at him countless times.
My chest constricts. Those are my smiles. Nothis.
His brows furrow. He’s looking at me with pity; something I fucking hate.
“Same old. Still enjoying boxing; she’s pretty good,” he says, and I smile. Anything Angelica puts her mind to, she succeeds.
“She’s in good spirits. Her friends have been keeping her mind off…things,” he adds, looking away.Off me.
“Any progress with finding info on her father and mother?”
“Not sure. She asked me to come over today, though, so maybe she’s found something.”
I can feel a knot squeezing my stomach, my muscles tense, and a surge of restless energy courses through me. Angelica callshimwhen she needs something, not me. And the thought of that makes my blood boil.
“Calm the fuck down. It’s not like that and you know it,” Gianis spits.
“Fáe skatá karióli.”Eat shit, asshole.
Navigating this emotional turmoil is fucking hell.
I rest my elbows on my knees and bring my head down. “I’m glad she has you,” I admit. “But it still doesn’t mean I fucking like you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“I still don’t understand why you came here. You could’ve just called.”
“I tried, but you weren’t picking up. Thought you were dead,” he responds, no ounce of emotion in his voice.
“Bet you would’ve liked that,” I retort.
Gianis heads to the front door. “It’s no fun if I’m not the one who gets to kill you.” And with that, he walks out of the apartment.
Motherfucker.
I walk back to my room and grab my phone. I have several missed calls, including some from Dion. I dial him back.
“What the fuck, bro?” Dion shouts through the phone.
I wince and pull it away from my ear. “Why are you yelling?”
“It’s noon and I’m just now hearing from you. We all thought you were dead.”
“Ah. You too,” I deadpan.
“What do you mean ‘you too’?”
