Page 36 of Fall
I know I didn't imagine it. He flashed me that gripping stare that was hot as fire, then his face turned to stone, and his eyes went cold.
Like baring my soul to him meant nothing.
Less than nothing.
Maybe that’s what I need to do as well. To paste on an unaffected expression and forget about all of it.
But I couldn't pull off such behavior if I tried.
Returning to my room, I ignore the disapproving look on Vinny’s face.
“Don’t even start,” I say.
As usual, he's standing beside my doorway, his hands laced behind his back, his feetshoulder-width apart. He might seem to be doing his job like any other day to everyone else, but I know better.
“You can’t fool me with your silence. I know that judgy look,” I tell him.
“I’m just standing here doing my job,” he answers flatly. He pivots his body a half turn as I pass right by him. “Which you know involves watching you like a hawk. Nothing else.”
“So why doyou have to give me that face?”
“This?” he asks, pointing at his cheeks with both index fingers. “It’s just my face, Miss Romano.”
"Whatever." I shrug. I don't even have the energy to argue with Vinny anymore. I skulk past him to the floor to ceiling bay windows in my room and stare outside. Not even the warm mid-morning sunlight on my face can improve my mood.
“The cook cameby a few minutes ago,” he informs me, following me into the bedroom like he normally does when I leave the door open. He’s been on me like a cheap suit since he all but confirmed everything I overheard from Nonna about our family having to leave the country. I’m sure he’s sticking around to be cautious, though there might be a part of him that wants to see whether I do something extreme with theinformation, like confront Father or Nonna.
“What did she want?” I ask absently.
“She was curious about what you felt like for breakfast, Miss Romano.”
I slump onto one of the two cream leather club chairs in the nook of the bay windows. “I’m not hungry. And quit it with the formalities. Save it for when people are around.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, thenhe coughs and mutters under his breath, “Projecting.”
“I heard that, pretty boy,” I answer and shoot him a resentful stare.
He leans against the wall beside the windows, seeming thoughtful. But a second later, he runs a hand over his lightly stubbled, perfectly square jawline and a crooked grin rises on his face. “I meant you to.”
He's not wrong. Antonio's the one I shouldbe directing this frustration at. Except he's in constant meetings with Father and the Pinuccis. Sadly, Vinny happens to be around, and I can't help but direct some of this anger at him. He's low hanging fruit, a convenient surrogate for the object of my disdain.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I go over to the night table beside my bed where I left my phone to charge. I begin to check for textmessages then let the phone screen go black in my hand before reading any of them. In this mood, I can just imagine how crusty I’ll be if left alone to reply to texts or check emails. And I don’t want to play on any of the games or apps installed. Hell, I don’t think I can use my e-reader right now.
But before I can set the phone back down, the screen lights up in my hand with a messagefrom Cassandra. Seeing her name pop up somehow puts me in a bit of a mood for girl talk, so I check her message, ready to chat for a few minutes.
Cassandra: Hey chica. You up?
Me: Hey. Sorry. Yes. I’m here.
Cassandra: Just wanted to say thanks again for yesterday. The party was awesome!”
Me: Thanks, Cass.
Cassandra: I adored yourdress too. Hope your bday bash was a blast.
Me: But you were there. You know it wasn’t.
Cassandra: True… but it’s not our fault.
