Siân is typing.
Taj: I’ve just got a lot going on. Can we talk tomorrow?
After a brief pause, she responds.
Siân: Yeah.
Siân: Why not.
“Hello,” Taj says into the phone. “Be here in fifteen minutes, or we’ll have to wait until next week.”
I seethe, my hands balled into fists at my side. What does she see in this motherfucker? I’ve barely been around a full month, and already I know he’s not meant for her. The bitch doesn’t even care about her safety. Sucking in a breath, I hold up my cell and open the chat with Siân and me.
Me: Hey, beautiful. How badly have you missed me?
A car passes, stealing my attention, but a split second later, my plan formulates in my mind. The entire purpose of tonight was to get under his skin, to teach him I’m always watching and show him just how easy it would be to get to him. My phone vibrates again, but I’m not thinking about that now. I shove the iPhone into my pocket and hop off the porch, kneeling and waiting to see if the motion sensor will grab his attention again.
When it doesn’t, I remove my switchblade, the gears clicking into place as I step up to his shiny blue Lexus. Glancing over my shoulder and up into the window, I see the top of his head, but his conversation with Kyla seems to have ended. Instead, he’s scrolling through his phone and throwing back the ice-cold water, flicking away the condensation before dropping out of view. My guess is he’s sitting now.
With the tip of my blade, I carve large letters into the hood of his car, a smile tipping on my face when I’m done.
Lei è mia. Ti ucciderò. She’s mine. I’ll kill you.
Taking a step back, I admire the words scratched in my native language. It’s a promise, one I’ll be acting out very soon. With one final glance up at the window, I jab the knife into the driver’s side front tire, then run the blade along the door, ruining the paint. I close the switchblade, stick it back in my pocket, and grip my pistol. Taking it by the barrel, I tighten my gloved hand around it and slam the butt of the gun into his back window.
The sound of glass shattering fills the air, followed by the blaring of his car alarm, which catches Taj’s attention. He rushes to the window as I walk backward around the bushes at the end of his drive. By the time Taj makes it outside, I am back at the old Chevy I left running out of direct view of his camera or any of those belonging to his neighbors.
“Hey!” he yells and comes to a running stop at the sidewalk.
With my hood still pulled low, I speed off, being sure to glance in his direction. He recognizes the car from earlier. It’s written all over his face.
“You fucking asshole!” he continues to scream at the rear of my car.
A grin plasters to my face, and I pull my glove off with my teeth while keeping the other hand on the wheel. I dig out my phone, finally reading the message that came through a moment ago.
Siân: Cocky much?
“Oh, mia topolina, non ne hai idea.” Oh, my topolina, you have no idea. I say aloud to myself and pull off into the night.
14
SIN
I run a hand down the front of my pencil skirt as I read over the syllabus I put together for today. Anxious butterflies have been fluttering around inside my belly all morning. Things with Taj aren’t any better, and after the other night, I don’t expect any resolution from talking to him. Still, I know I can’t ignore his presence forever. We work together, and even with how angry and upset I’ve been with him, part of me refuses to let him go. My heart aches at the thought, even while knowing he doesn’t care for me as he should.
My cell phone pings, and I grab it off the desk. My lips pull up at the sides as soon as I see Christian’s name appear on the screen with a text from him.
Christian: I miss you. When can I see you?
I know I shouldn’t be so happy over such a stupid little text, but Christian makes me feel alive. He makes me happy, and he cares about me. He genuinely cares about me. I text him back a quick reply, letting a little of my flirtatiousness seep through.
Me: When do you want to see me again? *wink face*
I press the send button and look up from my phone as the door to the classroom comes swinging open. Taj walks into the room with his messenger bag slung over one shoulder. His dress shirt is wrinkled and untucked from his dress pants. He looks messy and out of place, definitely not the Taj I know.