Page 28 of When She Unravels
Papà and Lazaro might find me at any moment—why not take advantage of my current freedom to really put that whole perfect mafia wife thing to rest?
I tell Vilde and Astrid they’ve won me over, and a few hours later, we start to get ready.
Astrid lets me borrow one of her provocative outfits. Unlike that first night at Revolvr, I decide to embrace showing off a generous amount of skin.
When I look in the mirror, I see a stranger. A woman with silky black hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. She’s in a blue bandeau top that’s a bit too small for her breasts, and a matching blue miniskirt. Red lips painted on a canvas of pale skin. She blinks at me with long eyelashes that fan over a pair of gray eyes. The eyes seem familiar, like they belong to someone I used to know a long time ago.
When I look into them for too long, other reflections start to flash. The faces of all the people I’ve killed. One layered on top of another, until the composite product is me.
I turn away from the mirror.
Astrid and Vilde pick the perfect moment to tumble out of the bathroom and provide me with a distraction. They take me in.
“You look fucking hot,” Astrid comments, before popping a gum bubble. “I need three more minutes, and then we’ll head out.”
We leave the hostel and get on a bus. The restaurant is called Aromata, and when we reach our stop, I see that it’s right on the beach and overlooks a small bay with calm waters.
The weather is pleasant, with warm air and a slight breeze. Astrid talks to the hostess, while I crane my neck to see past her into the open-air restaurant. It’s bustling, filled with conversation and the steady beat of laid-back techno music.
The hostess grabs a few menus. “This way, please.”
We follow her to the edge of the bar where there are exactly three empty chairs. “Is this all right?” she asks.
“We’ll take whatever we can get,” Astrid says. “We’re lucky. They look completely full,” she adds after the hostess walks away.
I glance at some of the nearby plates. “Food looks great.”
“That bar looks even better,” Vilde says as she studies the bottles on the shelves behind the bar.
A cute male bartender with dark, curly hair comes over to take our orders. “What can I get you, señoritas?”
“A pitcher of cava sangria, heavy on the fruit,” Astrid orders.
“You got it.”
“And we’re from Revolvr,” Vilde says.
The bartender nods. “Can I see your employee cards?”
I give the girls a quizzical look. “What is this for?”
“Oh, we get amazing discounts here because it’s one of GR’s restaurants,” Astrid says as she hands the bartender her card. “Groupo De Rossi.”
My mood immediately darkens.
“I don’t have one yet,” I tell the bartender.
“I’m sorry, but without the ID, I can’t honor the discount.”
“Oh, come on,” Astrid whines.
“My manager will have my head,” he says with an apologetic grimace. “He’s going crazy because the owner’s here tonight. Wants everything to be perfect.”
It’s as if someone tightens a screw in my brain, making everything around me come into sharper focus.
I exhale loudly and spin around.
Four tables ahead of us sits De Rossi.
