Novel Square
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven
The cold night air hit my face as we both burst out of the door and the hairs on my arm stood erect. I was still grappling with the information that the bar owner was the one I had seen in my Villa.
I had every right to call the police on him right now and maybe get this place searched. I mean, he had a gun that day but I had no evidence. I shivered, shak- ing the feeling that swept through me as I remembered the feel of the metal be- hind my back.
Still lost in my thoughts, Mark pushed me into the car. He hastily and roughly fixed the seat belt around me as though I was some kid he needed to take home with immediacy.
“Where are you taking me?!” I clumsily pulled at the belt as I threw the question at his moving figure. He went around the car. The car slightly shook as he climbed in and slammed the door closed.
His face was set straight, staring ahead as he blatantly ignored all the ques- tions I threw at him.
“Where are you taking me, Mark?!” I asked deadpan.
“I’m taking you home! We’re going home!” He yelled.
Just then, his phone lit up and the seat I was in vibrated. ‘Bella‘ was the name on display.
I noticed that he stopped moving and I looked up to find his eyes on me. We were like that for several second, the vibrating hum of the phone the only sound
in the car
I broke whatever trance we were both in and scoffed, “Do you need me to get
out of the car?”
He did his favorite thing since I’ve known him; he ignored me. He snatched the
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phone and fumbled with it for a while before he finally picked the call. He put
the phone on speaker.
I wondered why and rolled my eyes. To spite me?
For a man that had his wits about him and was raving mad Just a moment ago,
he sure was acting awkward.
“Hey…”
My head whipped to his face at the sound that came out of his m*uth. I didn’t think I had ever heard Mark speak so softly. It was almost like a breathless whis- per. Wow. This was more than I thought it was. He was seriously whipped.
“Mark…” Bella’s weak voice boomed through the phone’s speaker.
“Are you okay?” Mark half rose from his seat, his back rod straight.
“I’m not, Mark,” her response was accompanied by a sob. “I just woke up. I was
unconscious for a while and there was no one to tend to me.”
Mark met my eyes then quickly looked away.
“Look, Bel. I’m-”
“Bel!” I scoffed, interrupting him.
“Are you with someone?” Her voice suddenly sounded like steel.
“Bel, I’m busy. Can you reach your phone? Call the emergency num-” he was ex- plaining softly but Bella’s cries interrupted him.
“Mark. You have to come!” She whined. “I’m all alone in this lonely house and
my ch*st hurts. I can barely breath,” her breathing suddenly sounded raspy. “Please, Mark. I need you here.” She added after a second’s silence, “I want you
here. I want you to be the one to take me to the hospital.”
“Be-” NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.
“What if I die here before the ambulance gets here?!” Her voice was sharp. “Are you already tired of me? Have you found another girl.”
“Shh. I’ll never tire of you.”
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“Then come! Promise me you’ll be here.”
Mark ran fingers through his hair and let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be at your door in…” he trailed off as he checked his watch. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Hurry babe. I feel like I’m dying. Your presence and arms around me will make a huge difference.”
“Sure. I’ll be there. Just hang on.”
He had barely ended the call when I let out a loud hiss and removed the seat belt from around me. I turned to open the door, but Mark’s hand on my shoulder
stopped me.
“Come on. Stay. Let’s go see Bella together.”
Was this a joke?! I whirled around. “Over my dead b*dy!” I spat in his face.
He flinched back, seeming surprised. “She’s your sister! And she is sick.”
I met his gaze head on, “She might as well be dying,” I gritted out. “I don’t want to be involved in your sick and twisted relationship.”
“This isn’t about our relationship or differences. This is about your sister’s
health.”
I fully turned to him but my hand was still on the car’s doorknob. “You know the world doesn’t revolve around you two, right? No one wants to see your disgust-
ing loving dovey acts.”
His phone lit up and Bella’s call came in again. His hand left my shoulder as he immediately picked up the call and that was my cue to leave.
I stepped out of the car. Through the car’s winded down mirror, I saw him trap the phone between his ear and shoulder and simultaneously inserted the key in
the ignition.
A few seconds later, he dropped his phone and faced me, his hands were al- ready gripping the steering wheel, ready to zoom off to his lover.
“This Sunday is your father’s birthday party. Wait for me at home, we’ll leave to-
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gether!” He finished. Then he wound up his mirror and sped off.
I watched in annoyance, irritation and disgust as his car swiftly disappeared in- to the dark of the night.
“Get lost you asshole!” I flinched as Grace’s shout suddenly resounded in the night. I couldn’t stop the grin that marred my l*ps as she came forward and con- tinued to curse at him.
“You’re disgusting! Go on. Go to your lover’s bed!” Grace screamed into the night. By now, Mark’s car was just a tiny light at the end of the tunnel.
“Relax, girl,” I giggled and shook my head, “he definitely cannot hear you.”
“He can,” she murmured, then turned to me, concern filled her eyes. “Are you
okay?”
I scoffed, “Why won’t I be?”
“Don’t be fooled by his sweet talks, okay? He’ll only break your heart.”
I laughed, “Mark doesn’t sweet talk.” I remembered the way he had gone mel-
low when he was speaking with Bella. “At least not with me,” I added. “So your
don’t have to get all sentimental. There’s no way he would break my heart with
his sneers and shouts.”
“Then he should keep sneering.”
We both laughed. She wove her arms around my shoulder and we both strut-
ted back toward the entrance of the bar.
Grace sighed by my side, her warm breath softly tickled my ear. “It’s a pity, we didn’t get to see that handsome Italian guy again.”
“Hmm…” I murmured.
Then she chirped, an hopeful rise to her tone, “But it doesn’t matter. I asked the bartender about him and he said the guy owns this bar so we’ll definitely see
him if we frequent here.”
I skidded to a stop almost causing Grace to stumble forward. I had been half lis-
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tening to her talk about the Italian guy but my ears had perked up when she said he owned the bar.
I turned to her, excitement built in me, overshadowing the glint of fear. “The Ital- ian guy is the owner of the bar?”
Grace bobbed her head, “Yes, what’s up?”
“I got his card,” I blurted without any preamble.
“Shut up!” Grace’s eyes widened and she drew back.
“I’m serious,” my heart was beating faster than normal and my hands shook,
whether from excitement or fear, I couldn’t fathom.
My shaky hands slid to my skirt’s back pocket and I pulled it out. “Are you talk-
ing about this owner?”
Together we examined the card. Luigi Matteo. His name, an Italian name, was
right there along with his contact information.
The look of disbelief on Grace’s face as she gasped caused my heart to swell with pride.
“Babe,” she drawled loudly and punched me lightly on the shoulder. I wobbled
back a little, grinning. “How did you pull that?”
Yeah, how did I pull that? No. The question should be ‘how did he pull that?‘
I shrugged, my l*ps curled into a smug smile.
“I underestimated you, girl. You still have it in you, huh?” She wiggled her
brows, “Hooking such a handsome hunk so quickly.”
I giggled as she put her arm back around my shoulder and pulled us toward
the bar. “Now let’s go see if your catch is still in there.”
My steps were hesitant. Grace was this excited because she didn’t know what I
knew. I wondered, as we strolled back in there, if I should tell Grace what had
happened the first time I met Luigi. How he had pressed his gun at my back
and made me take care of his bullet wound but I decided against it.
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Though I made a mental note to always stay alert. For me and for Grace. He might seem like an ordinary guy who owned a striving bar but he was much
more. An ordinary bar owner wouldn’t be sporting a bullet wound or breaking in- to people’s houses and scaring them with a gun.