Chapter 75: Chapter 75

THE WHITE...

Once I met a man in a bar in the Dutch countryside. He had lost his left eye in a fight with another man. I remember thinking how brave he was. Not for fighting, but for fighting until he lost his eye. To not recognize the limits. To not back down.

Now I see Angelic coming down the stairs, looking around the first floor of the warehouse. I descend right behind her, absorbing her movements. She's as brave as the man I met at the bar, and she's half his height and weight. She's not afraid to come see me whenever she wants, wherever she is. She doesn't see the limits either.

And so I have to think. What differentiates stupidity from courage? How unreasonable has Angelic, or the man at the bar, been?

The answer is simple. Brave people don't think too much.

- I'll take you home - I announce.

She turns to me. Her expression is serious because she doesn't like being ordered around. However, his eyes do not meet mine. She avoids looking at me because every time she does, her cheeks turn red.

- I came with my car.

- You can get it later.

Of course, she will return to the Bronx. Angelique always comes back. And if she doesn't come to me, fuck her, I'll come to her.

Angelique turns around and continues to walk towards the exit. My eyes roam the back of his body with some familiarity. The light hair falling in the back, the well-defined waist in the dress, the wide and rounded hips, like a violin, and the elegant legs.

It was always easy to walk into a room and ignore your presence. Pretend she was a job. However, when Angelic looked me in the eye for the first time, watching me from below as if he were meters above, I started paying attention to him. Since then, I have never stopped. To hell with women who make the head down think more than the head up.

She bends down, passes under the half-open gate, and I do the same. Outside, Angelic recognizes the Bugatti parked next to the warehouse.

Inspired by extraordinary chivalry, I open the door for her to enter. After all, it's the least I can do after being between your legs. Twice.

I turn around and get in the car. Three seconds were enough for Angelic's scent to permeate everything. I had forgotten how strong her scent was, but now it's too late to get her out of the car and send her home alone. I start the engine and pull the Bugatti off the sidewalk.

I drive at low speed. I'm in no rush to go to your place. It's true that I would like to get rid of your perfume that pervades my whole car, but it's also true that I don't hate perfume. I hate that he's always there for me, even when she's not.

Initially, the silence between us is comfortable. She is almost imperceptible. Of course, her presence would be less important if she were less beautiful. However, I realize that my head has never been silent. Not now, not today, not yesterday, not last week. My mind hasn't been quiet since the last time we were in the warehouse. I thought about that. I dreamed of it.

It wasn't the silence, it was the memories. How warm she felt between her legs. How low her moan was, to the point that I needed to get closer to have the pleasure of hearing better. How confident she was, knowing exactly what to do. And every second I'm accumulating more information to fuck my head off with the memory. I already know your taste, the texture of your skin, the firmness of your ass... the rest is a work of my imagination.

"That's scary," Angelic suddenly whispers.

Deep breath.

- Who?

- Guns, shots, people dying... - she ramble - You live in the middle of this - Angelique looks at the trees passing outside - There's a good part. Cars and races. But the rest is hard to digest.

I smile sideways. It's funny that I left Italy to come and live the experience of a rebellious teenager. Before, I was better than that. However, I don't really care. People like Angelic, who grew up in a gilded cage, embrace every opportunity for freedom. I don't mind being that opportunity for her.

- Then why are you here? - I ask.

- I don't know - your answer is automatic.

Come on, little devil. Tell me why you want to escape your reality so much. Tell me why you find solace in the suburbs. Tell me why the danger I offer fuels your interest.

- Yes you know.

Angelic sighs.

- Because I don't want to be like my mother - her voice is low - What did she gain from being a good daughter, then a good wife and, finally, a good mother?

"Maybe she was happy that way," I suggest.

- But I wouldn't.

This conversation makes me think of Angelique in a white dress, agreeing to marry a man who would surely like the idea of having her as a wife. So I would love the idea of seeing her have her kids. Because she's that kind of woman who evokes possessiveness in a man just because she's so sexy.

Of course, the image compels me to think of a groom for her. However, along with this, I ponder what I would do to fend off any man who approaches her.

How many would I hurt?

How many would I kill?

I meant it when I said it evoked possessiveness. It doesn't matter how far I am from being the man she marries. Angelique Donneli is mine. Indicate.

- So you don't intend to get married? - I wonder - Being a good wife, a good mother...

- A good wife for whom? Vicenzo? - she laughs, then smiles.

I grip the steering wheel as hard as I clench my jaw. I count to ten, then release my fingers.

Years. It took me years to learn to control my reactions. It took me a while to understand that people are afraid of what they don't understand. I have become a rock, unspeakable. However, I see my years of effort crumbling as, at this point, I am unable to hide the grief.

Vicenzo? No my dear. Not fucking.

You will not be the woman in bed. You won't be the woman at the altar with him. You will not be the mother of his children. For him, it is better not even to be the woman of his dreams.

- Do you intend to get married? she asks after a minute of silence on my part.

I think for a second. The negative answer is so obvious that I prefer not to say it.

- Can you imagine me at the altar, next to a priest?

- You would probably catch fire - Angelic smiles. She stares at my profile, but I know if I look back at her she'll look away - I've never known love, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. So yes, I can imagine you at the altar.

I keep looking straight ahead, thinking about his words. It is the evil of people who have not been well loved; they always look for that shit elsewhere. I nod, indicating that I heard, and she looks out the window.

Angelic stays quiet longer than I think is typical for her. It makes me... intrigued. Maybe for the first time in my life, I'm thinking about my next words. Meanwhile, the cell phone starts vibrating on her lap. She picks up before even looking at the caller ID.

- Hello - greet. I find myself paying attention to the voice on the other end of the line. A man - Yes, I am. Need help? she asks, then listens intently. I watch it. It's none of my business, is it? But how crazy would I look if I snatched the cell phone from her hands and ended the call, why wouldn't I want any man to need your help ? - Clear. I'm downtown, I'll be there in five minutes.

Angelique listens to the answer and hangs up.

- Can you change the route? Our lawyer, Antony, needs help - she's looking at me.

The name is not foreign to me. I thought for a second before remembering Margot's lover.

- Where he lives? - I ask.

I'm starting to hate the idea of leaving this woman alone. Starting with the fact that she sees no limits. But above all, I hate allowing myself to feel this way. When did she get so deep into my head?

"On Wall Street," he replies.

I change my route and go to the address Angelique gave me. We stay silent until I pull up outside the Donneli family lawyer's house. I decide to wait in the car or go with her, and considering that I've already broken several of my rules because of a woman, I choose the first option. Although it seems, she is not part of me. I won't act like that.

- Thank you - said Angelique - I don't know what he has to do with me, but it has to be quick. I'll be right back.

She gets out of the car, leaving me at her disposal. I don't know when I became your private driver either, but I realize this shit happened a few days ago.

The lawyer's house is a two-storey building. It's not as big as the other houses in the neighborhood, but it has a big garden. His three cars are right at the entrance, because that's what people with money like to do; Spectacle.

As Angelic walks towards the front of the house, I watch his steps. I look around to make sure no one else is watching. I used to take the same care with my first cars. I watched from afar to make sure no barber drivers had crashed. I've always had this protective instinct with what's mine.

What is mine...

She's mine, and I should be closer than I really am.

Someone opens the front door, however, I can't see who. Angelique takes a step forward, then I get out of the car. My intuition rarely fails, and now it's triggered a warning. Why did Antoine call her? Why didn't you ask Elliot for help?

- Angelique - I'm calling. She stops, looks at me, one foot inside the house.

I approach her. I look at the open door, but I can't find the person who opened it. There are no lights on or windows open, which increases my suspicion.

"Hello," I said.

I walk past Angelic, reaching out an arm for her to stand behind me. I smell a familiar rotting smell. I walk into the room slowly and cautiously. I calculate my every move, but then I remember that I have to think for both of us. She would hardly know what to do if she was in danger. When I think about asking Angelic to get back in the car, she's already glued to my back.

The deeper we go into the house, the stronger the smell. I recognize the characteristic smell of someone who's been dead for days. I hold my breath.

- What is that? - Angelic asks, referring to the smell. I look at her over my shoulder, and I see all her fragility in the hands resting on her nose. My world would seem like hell to him.

I feel the wall and find a set of erasers. I trigger a few until I find the right one. When the lights in the room come on, along with the chandelier, the first thing our eyes encounter is a body hanging by the neck, strapped to the ceiling.

"Holy God," Angelique whispers. She instinctively approaches me, grabbing my right hand.

I look at the ground. There is blood on the carpet. A person does not bleed when they hang themselves. I turn back to the body, which I presume is that of Antony Louzada, rigid as a rock, greyish, ready to decompose. The man is wearing a suit and Oxford shoes. No one would prepare so well for their own death.

He was murdered, then hanged.

I hear Angelic's breathing getting heavier behind me. This sight may not bother me, but it will certainly give him nightmares.

"Let's go," I said.

I look around, making sure we're alone in the house. I turn around, put an arm around Angelic's shoulders and lead her out of Louzada's house. She's tense, though, and practically runs for her car.

As I open the Bugatti door for Angelic to enter, then close it, I look at the house one last time. They called her, made her come here, made her believe that Louzada was waiting for her. What if Angelic was alone? What would she find in the house? And, more importantly, would she make it?

My head works tirelessly as I close the car door and walk to the other side. Right. Caught my attention.

Now it has become personal. The next person who tries to hurt this girl will be in serious trouble with me.

ANGELIC...

- We do what we can, sir. As soon as I have more news, I will contact you - I hear Detective Pierce's voice from the first floor.

I walk down the stairs hesitantly. Since I saw Antoine's body yesterday, hanging from his own ceiling, I couldn't think of anything else. I dreamed of your blood staining the carpet. I made an anonymous tip to report what happened, and I expected the detective to come visit.

- Hello - greeting. I stop in the middle of the stairs.

Three pairs of eyes turn to me. Elliot Donneli, dressed casually because he just got home from the hospital, Margot, still in her satin dress - indicating she was unprepared for the visit - and Detective Pierce.

- Antoine is dead - announces Margot, without the slightest trace of sadness in her speech - He was found hanging from the ceiling of his own house.

I take a long breath. I stare at the detective, hoping he has something to say, but he just nods.

"I wish I broke the news in a less blunt way, but it's the truth," Pierce said.

Wait what?

Someone's dead, and there aren't three hundred cops collecting information?

- And now I have to go - the detective lowers his head - I'm sorry.

- I'll walk you to the door - Margot is ready.

- Nope. I will accompany you - I said, already descending the remaining steps.

I walk past Margot and Elliot and follow the detective down the hall. My head doesn't understand that he doesn't know about Antony's death. Margot was his lover, she should be the first to be investigated!

I put my hand on the doorknob, but I don't open the door.

- Two strikes. Death of the senator. Our lawyer hanging from the ceiling of his own house. Things are clearly spiraling out of control, detective. Why do you act like everything is fine? - I whisper.

- MRS. Donneli - he looks around, making sure we're alone - I'm doing the best I can.

- I'm sorry, Inspector, but that's not the case. The police deliberately ignore the latest developments.

- Angelique - he takes a step towards me, and now he doesn't care about using my last name - It's a big dogfight. You do not see? The elections are only a few weeks away.

- And that's why you refuse to do something?

- I refuse? - he smiles, even if he doesn't find it funny - I'm doing everything I can! - her voice becomes a whisper, because we both know that walls have ears - Could it be that I refuse? You know Bruce Campbell is in the crosshairs of the police, and yet you were with him in the Bronx, ”he whispers.

His words are like a punch in my stomach. I almost don't know what to say when shame crosses my face.

How did he know I was in the Bronx?

"It's none of your business," I say, not because he's wrong, but because I don't have a better argument.

Pierce shakes his head. If he was my dad, I'd say he's disappointed. He places his hand over mine and turns the handle, opening the door.

- Take cover, Angelique. The worse is yet to come.

The detective walks out the door, leaving me speechless. Am I going crazy or did he just associate LeBlanc with the latest events?

- Inspector - I'm calling, before he gets in his car. Pierce turns to me, raising an eyebrow. - I ask.

- Bruce Campbell - he whispers - There are no previous recordings of him. It's like he was born five months ago - Pierce gives me a second to process the information. He looks deep into my eyes, sure he'll freak me out if he says anything more - Be careful what you don't know - are his last words before getting in the car.