“Alright, I don't give a fuck about McGregor. Why does Giugliano have her?”
And then Lolita Dunham does what she does best. Lie.
41
Reese
Tunnel vision aligns my path as we touched down at a private airspace in Naples. A young woman in a sports car that cost a fortune, greets us upon arrival in the wee hours of the morning. Holding mounds of high-end apparel shopping bags in her hands. She must've greeted me in Italian and said something about the clothing fitting me. Then she proceeds to fuck Matteo's face with her bright red lips.
Since I’ve been up for almost an entire day, I almost fell asleep standing there holding the bags as they kissed. Legs locked about the calves, I shook myself awake each time my chin dipped. I rub my face and yawn as a fresh breeze trails over my skin. Evan…
I reach into my pocket for my phone. And then I put down the woman’s bags of clothing to check my satchel.
“Matteo, my cell phone is missing?”
“You left it on the jet, let me go check,” he pulls himself away from the ditz’s embrace.
“No, I did not.” I fold my arms. I needed to call Evan but refused to have a conversation within earshot of my half-brother. “Did I leave it with Jamie?”
“Just let me check,” he holds up his hands as if pleading me not to argue. I nod my appreciation and Matteo heads up the steps.
“Here are your things,” I tell the woman, waking up much more.
“They’re yours. Sal, said to grab you a few items. I do believe the items will fit, like I said a few minutes ago,” she says.
I start to refuse the clothing but Matteo is sauntering down the steps, holding up my cell phone. “See, no need to worry.”
Lips tensed, I wonder how he easily found my cell phone. Matteo’s lady lingers while I get into the passenger seat of his JEEP. And then I’m out again…
Birds chirp, and wind rustles. Sheer white drapes bellow in the soft wind. The sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks below has awakened me.
I place my hands against my tiny womb, one day my hands won't be able to fully cover it. I've gotta tell Evan we're expecting. My lips spread into a smile, and then my eyes water again. Oh God, I love him.
My fingers fly away from my stomach as if just the touch will singe off my fingerprints and palm prints. What if I’m a mother like my own? And if Evan becomes the very father I loved yet feared? Can I have his baby…
“Evan,” I breathe his name, as if just the mere murmuring of it will rouse a bit of sanity. I glance around. There’s a milk glass vase, it’s filled with exotic flowers. The room has posh furniture, a couch at the end of the dark wood bed.
I’m still dressed in the jeans and shirt I went to the Dr. Saadat’s in yesterday afternoon. Or was that yesterday afternoon? The sky is turquoise, mirroring the sea, yet it’s sunny. How long did I sleep and where the heck am I?
I bite my lip, attempting to think. And then an image of a towering villa comes into mind. The white stucco mansion with its dark wood doors, yes, I remember getting out of Matteo’s Jeep. When we arrived, there were gunmen at the wrought iron gates. Matteo lined up all of the staff and introduced me to them. He, along with a maid, carried the bags his girlfriend brought me.
I glance at the closed door, and the glossy expensive apparel bags are set on a chaise next to the exit. As soon as I entered, my head kissed the pillow.
My purse is on the dresser next to me. I grab my phone from it, and see all the missed calls from Evan. I take a deep breath, and dial his number. My hand is back at my stomach, as if massaging my flat womb will settle my baby’s nervous jitters. As the tone connects, I lick my lips, hoping he isn’t angry with me for being out of reach so long.
The call connects.
“Evan,” my eyes brighten, excitedly I declare, “I've gotta tell you…”
“Where are you, Reese?” His voice is calculated and devoid of the love I'm used to. I bite the bottom of my lip. This is perhaps an awful time to mention that we've made a life.
“Reese, tell me where you are?”
“I… I can't.”
His mannerisms soften somewhat. “Send me the location of your phone.”
“I can't…” Antsy as I am, I swing my legs over the bed and stand up. Rubbing a hand through my hair, I endeavor to use the right words to explain, “Evan, I’ve gotta—”
“You can't send me your phone’s location because someone… is someone monitoring your phone calls?”
“No.” I gasp at the absurdity of his question.
“You don't know how?”
“I refuse, Evan,” I take a deep breath and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I'll be home soon. Not sure how soon, first, I want the truth from Sal. But Evan doesn't give me the chance.
“Listen to me, beautiful, you're angry. I get it.” He is livid, “But before we fucked thirty-seven hours ago, I told you exactly who you fucking belong to.”
I match his fury, “Whatever, Evan.”
“No, fuck whatever. Reese, listen to me loud and clear: Wherever you are, I will find you. I will bring
