Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11) Kristi Belcamino (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) š
- Author: Kristi Belcamino
Book online Ā«Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11) Kristi Belcamino (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) šĀ». Author Kristi Belcamino
It hurt too much. Why would I fucking torture myself like that again? Who in their right mind would do that? Umā¦nobody.
I was fucking done.
There is an old Italian saying that we only truly love three people in our lives.
Iāve loved my three.
Bobby. Nico. James.
Dear, sweet James who, thank God, was still alive and thriving in San Francisco. That man had stolen my heart but then broke it into a million pieces. Because Iām a killer and he was a cop. Our relationship never stood a chance.
I reached into my bag and took out my worn metal Zippo lighter and lit the candles on my ofrenda one last time.
I lit four of them. Along with the photos and candles, Iād placed mementos that reminded me of them or items that they had loved in life.
In front of Nicoās picture, Iād placed a CD of his favorite music and a bottle of tequila.
For Bobby, a bottle of the hot sauce he loved and his favorite book of poetry.
For my parents, the cigars my dad liked and the perfume my mom wore.
My phone vibrated in my bag, startling me out of my memories.
I rummaged around and found it just as the call ended. Dante.
I called him back. āYo.ā
āIāve been buzzing. Iām downstairs.ā
āOh, fuck. The ringer is still broken. Iāll buzz you in.ā
I hit the button and headed back to the bedroom to finish packing my second suitcase.
Soon Dante was at my side.
āHave you decided where youāre going?ā he said in his perfectly enunciated speech as he walked in.
I glanced up at him and was once again astonished by his good looks. The guy never aged. Weād been friends since we were kids, and he just kept getting better looking. His brilliant white smile always stood out against his burnished olive skin, and I loved how he was wearing his silky black hair a little bit long in the back nowadays at the request of his husband, Wayne. Today, he was wearing a white linen shirt with the buttons undone enough for me to see his gold necklace with the Italian cornetto and hand talisman to protect against the evil eye.
āFrench Riviera,ā I said.
I continued throwing expensive silk lingerie into my smaller suitcase. Dante had made me buy it during our last shopping spree in Paris. I would never have spent $250 on underwear otherwise, but I had to admit it made my ass look spectacular.
āSounds fabulous,ā Dante said, stepping into my closet. āWhy there?ā
āI have no memories there.ā
āWhat? That hurts. Me. You. St. Tropez?ā he started humming some song about St. Tropez and dancing around.
āIām not going there.ā
āWhere to, then?ā
I didnāt answer, but I looked pointedly at a framed poster in the hallway. It was a still from the movie La Piscine. The movie was set in Italy. But from the look on Danteās face, I knew he made the connection. Cannes was the film epicenter of Southern France, and the festival was next week.
āOh. My. God.ā
I hid my smile.
āWhat will you wear?ā
āIām going to sunbathe and read and listen to music and maybe find some hot boy to fuck.ā
Dante stopped dancing.
I could feel his disapproval without looking at him.
āYouāre married.ā
āAm I?ā
He didnāt answer.
I wasnāt married. Not really.
How could I be? Nico didnāt know who I was. He hadnāt for months.
āAt least let me dress you.ā Dante had personal buyers at all the top designers and attended the fashion shows in Paris every year. He had impeccable taste. Thank God one of us did.
āIām bringing every bikini I own,ā I said. āThatās really all I plan on needing.ā
āDarling, if you are going to be in Cannes during the Film Festivalāfirst, how the holy hell did you find a place to stay there right now? Oh, never mind, youāre Gia. But please, please tell me youāll let me dress you for the festival.ā
I shrugged and tossed another bikini into the suitcase on the bed.
āI wasnāt planning on going to the festival.ā
āIām going to get you tickets.ā
I didnāt argue. I loved movies. Attending the festival in Cannes could fit into my hedonistic plans. āSure. Whatever.ā
āThen itās a deal. Now, what should you wear? Iām not sure you have anything in this apartment?ā He started thumbing through my hangers.
āIāll find something.ā
āIāll handle it,ā he said firmly. āSomeone has to stop you from wearing your beat-up leather pants and āFuck Authorityā T-shirt.ā
āRosie took that shirt from me years ago.ā
Rosie was Nicoās daughter. The closest thing I had to a child. She was off somewhere killing someone. Because, apparently, thatās what the women in my family did. We couldnāt help it. But there were always evil fuckers who needed to be killed.
āWill you let me do what I do best?ā Dante said, in seventh heaven. Shopping and dressing me was his favorite thing ever. Or at least thatās how it seemed.
āYeah. Iāll go watch some movies. And you can dress me for them.ā
Dante was chattering on and on about how he knew the perfect dress for me and that he might have to order it and have it sent to me in Cannes. But I would also need three other ones andā¦blah blah blah. I let him ramble. It made him happy so I tolerated it. And the simple fact was that I looked like shit when I dressed myself.
Attending the Cannes Film Festival was probably a legit reason to dress up.
Dante frowned. āThere is nothing here. Nothing at all. Come with me,ā he said and grabbed my hand. āThere is one place in townāone place in all of Barcelonaāthat might possibly have a dress that will do in a pinch if I canāt get the dresses I have in mind ordered in time.ā
I couldnāt help but laugh. God love Dante.
I grabbed my bag and followed him out the door, giving one last glance at the candles burning on the altar. I usually was very careful about blowing them out before I left
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