Rina

Getting to his car—a sleek black Jeep—I opted for the backseat. We drove to Bella-Anima, a suburb known for a wide variety of gelato. When I celebrated my tenth birthday, Papa brought me here. He'd been financially stable then.

Alessio parked in front of the ice-cream parlours: Sapore Dolce.

"Here we are. Rina?"

I snapped my gaze from the window.

"We've arrived. Come on. Let's go in."

My gaze left him and went to the parlor. Mindlessly, I shook my head. "No, I…we can't be seen together." I had to take the necessary precautions. Once bitten twice shy. "I'll stay here."

His eyes, brown like honey, bored into me. Feeling exposed, I looked down to my laps.

"Okay. What's your favorite flavor?"

I shrugged. "Anything is fine."

"Be right back."

I breathed a sigh when he left, at the same time wondering why I'd held my breath. This wasn't Piccolo Maestro, was he?

I bit my lip and looked out to the window. A bead of tear rested on my lower lid. My lips parted slightly.

That image. I cou