The moment I hung up, my fingers had barely grazed the glass again when a familiar figure wrapped around me from behind. Samuel, reeking of alcohol, buried his face in the curve of my neck. His warm breath spilled across my skin, and his voice was the same gentle murmur it always was:
"Lois... who were you calling? I've been looking everywhere for you. I missed you so much. Let's go home, okay?"
Every time he got drunk over the years, he would hold me just like this from behind, saying over and over that he missed me, that he loved me.
But now, his tenderness made my skin crawl. It cut straight to the bone.
Everyone said the same thing: the revered Godfather of Sicily's jewelry empire never lied, that he loved me with every fiber of his being, heart and soul laid bare.
But now, those words made my stomach turn. Every syllable drove into me like a needle through flesh.
I thought of the plan I'd just agreed to with that man. I steadied myself, forcing the hatred and trembling back down into the pit of my chest.
Expressionless, I helped a dead-drunk Samuel into the armored sedan.