Page 23 of Italian Professor

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess. She’s not backing down, but she isn’t throwing a fit, either.”

“Trust me, baby. It was the right thing to do. Eventually, things will all work out.”

“I hope you’re right, but I don’t ever tell my mother my business. This is a first for me.”

“You never know. This might be the start of something new.”

“I already miss you,” I whine, clutching my pillow against my chest and wishing it’s him.

“I miss you, too, baby. I can’t wait to catch a glimpse of you in the hall tomorrow.”

“Seeing you and not being able to touch you makes me crazy.”

“It’s the same for me. Maybe I’ll come up with a plan and surprise you tomorrow.”

“How? What are you going to do?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Sleep tight, Princess.”

The idea of Anthony surprising me tomorrow feels exciting and a little naughty. I can’t lie. I would love to finish what we started on his desk the day we met, but that might be a little too naughty to go unnoticed. I think his secretary is already suspicious of how he locks the door each time we’re alone together. Not wanting to drive myself crazy, I decide to take a shower and go to bed early.

A loud bang awakens me suddenly, and I scramble to check my phone to see how long I’ve been asleep. Disoriented and half-conscious, I hear another bang followed by the sound of breaking glass then silence.

“Mom, what the hell? You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I mutter and climb out from under my covers.

I open the bedroom door and start down the hall, fully prepared to give her an earful about responsibility and adult behavior. How dare she question my maturity level when she’s drunk and destroying the house? Just as I’m about to descend the staircase, something catches my eye. There’s light coming from under my mother’s bedroom door. It wasn’t there a second ago. She must be in there. So what’s going on downstairs?

My heart leaps out of my chest as I realize that someone must have broken in. I hear the creak of my mother’s door and throw my finger over my mouth. She looks dumbfounded so I rush to her. I push her back into her room, close the door, and lock it behind us.

“I think there’s someone downstairs. They must have broken in.”

“You didn’t set the alarm?” she asks, rubbing her head

“No, I went to bed before you. You should have set it. Damn it, Mom. That means the police won’t get an alert. Fuck!”

“Watch your mouth, Aria.”

“Oh, hush, Mother. There’s an intruder in our house. Get your phone so we can call the police.”

She stumbles across the room and checks her bedside table, but it isn’t there.

“I don’t have it. I must have left it out by the pool.”

“Fuck!” she looks at me as though she’s going to tell me to watch my mouth again then changes course.

“Where’s your phone?”

“In my room. I need to go get it but you need to come with me. I’m not running down the hall twice and we need to stick together.”

“Do you think you might be overreacting? We don’t know what those noises were.”

“Sure, maybe the cat knocked something over,” I wait for her to respond.

“We don’t have a… Okay, Aria. You’re not funny.”

“And we aren’t taking any chances. Ready? Let’s go,” I inch the door open slowly and steadily, praying that whoever is in the house is still downstairs.

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