4. The Stranger

SOFIA

The sound of speeding cars woke me up. My eyes fluttered open slowly, and the next thing I knew, I was staring down at the depth of the East River, bent over the railing while someone held onto me tightly. My head spun, and I screamed as I jumped back and nearly flew straight into traffic.

“For heaven’s sake, calm the fuck down!” someone yelled behind me. A pair of arms suddenly yanked me back, and I slammed into a warm chest. The strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me back as I nearly jumped into traffic.

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he said. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Let go of me!” I cried. “Let go!”

“The hell I will,” he growled. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“It’s none of your concern,” I said, desperately trying to punch or bite or kick him away, but he was too fucking strong. It felt like I was pinned to a wall, unable to move even a single muscle. And no matter how hard I tried, he just wouldn’t budge.

“Only a fool would try to take her own life,” he said.

“Then I’m a fool,” I shot back, still banging his chest with my eyes shut. “Let me go!”

“No!” he snapped. “Not until you stop this madness.”

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently, his voice rising in anger as he said, “Open your eyes, goddamnit.”

Even though I didn’t want to, I opened my eyes so I could look at the man who’d just saved my life. And as soon as my eyes met his, I stopped struggling.

Holy shit!

For a moment, I forgot I had just tried to kill myself.

He was the most breathtaking man I’d ever laid eyes on. He had the kind of face that didn’t belong on a man trying to save a stranger from killing themselves in the middle of the night. He belonged on a runway somewhere, or on the cover of Men’s Health magazine. He had piercing blue eyes, a sharp jaw that could cut through steel, full lips that just magically drew my eyes towards them, and a full head of messy but well kept hair.

He was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on, and I couldn’t even think properly as I stared at him. He was way taller than me, and he was really fit. Something told me he spent most days at the gym, or at least he had one in his home. He smelled like money, and very expensive cologne. I didn’t fail to notice the expensive watch on his wrist, a titanium blue Hublot which I remembered cost nearly 20,000 dollars.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he looked like he wanted to yell at me but also pull me in for a hug and assure me that everything was going to be alright. Despite the rage in his eyes, there was a little hint of tenderness beneath the surface, and he didn’t seem like he was truly mad at me. He was just pissed off because I’d tried to do something stupid.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked. “Six pills of Oxy and half a bottle of vodka? And you still tried to throw yourself off a bridge? What the hell is going through your head right now?”

“I just want to die,” I whispered, voicing it for the first time ever. “There’s no point in living anymore.”

“There’s never a point to living,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you should try to kill yourself. It’s not worth it. And with everything you’ve done? You would have killed yourself a dozen times over.”

I tried to tell him to fuck off, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the tears started to flow. I broke down in his arms, sobbing so loudly as the pain ripped through me like a hot knife. I let out all the anguish and frustration I’d been holding in for several weeks now. I allowed myself to feel the crushing weight of my situation for the first time since the incident, and it was too much to handle.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around me. He let me cry into his chest, and for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. He held me like he truly cared about me, like he was actually concerned about my wellbeing. It felt so good to be held once again, to feel like there was someone else right there with me, and I wasn’t doing this all by myself. I was so tired of feeling broken and lonely, and I just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having another person there with me.

I don’t remember how long I spent crying right there on Brooklyn Bridge. The people driving past must have thought we were crazy or something. But he didn’t say anything or even move a single muscle until I finally stopped bawling my eyes out. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders as soon as I stopped crying, and only then did he let me go. He pulled back so he could look me in the eyes, and I felt so small and timid as I looked down at my feet.

“It’s alright, Sofia,” he said. “Everything is going to be alright.”

I looked up at him in shock, and asked, “How did you know my name?”

“Your necklace,” he said, pointing to my neck. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

I nodded stiffly, ashamed of how stupid I sounded. He took a deep breath before he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, enveloping me in his scent and shielding me from the cold.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of this cold and get some food in your stomach. Thank God you threw up all those pills.”

I avoided his gaze as he led me away, and my ears were burning as I thought about what I’d just tried to do. I don’t even remember what came over me to even compel me to think of something like that. Why would I try to kill myself? What would Dad say if he was here right now?

As we walked, I stole quick glances at the strange man whose jacket I was wearing. He was still unbelievably handsome, and he just exuded a kind of confident aura that made me realize this was a powerful man who I wouldn’t want to mess with. And yet he was being so kind and gentle, and my heart warmed as I walked beside him.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Adrian,” he replied. “Adrian DeLuca.”

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember where I heard it from. I made a mental note to G****e him when I got home, and something told me I wouldn’t be prepared for what I was going to find.

“Do you live nearby?” he asked.

“SoHo,” I replied.

He scoffed, and I could already tell that he wanted to say something about me walking all the way here to kill myself. But he held his tongue, and we kept on walking until we got to a parking lot on Pearl street. Instinctively, I knew he was to lead me to the matte black Porsche which was parked in front of us. It was the most expensive car in the garage, and definitely looked like something Adrian would drive.

He was still silent as he helped me into the car, and we drove off with the only sound between us being the humming of the engine. The silence was suffocating, and I just felt the need to say something. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t crazy, and I was actually a somewhat competent human being. So I decided to ask him a question.

“What were you doing out on the bridge tonight?” I asked.

He kept a firm grip on the steering wheel as he didn’t even turn to look at me, but I noticed a vein pulsing in his temple. He looked like he was thinking about something excruciating, and he was debating whether to tell me the whole truth or not.

“I was going for a walk,” he said simply.

Something about his tone sounded ominous, and for a brief second I realized how stupid I was for hopping into the car of a total stranger. For all I knew, he could be an international terrorist, or a major drug dealer or kidnapper. And yet here I was, sitting in his car and wondering why he had a bull tattoo on his neck.

“Where did you get the pills?” he asked suddenly, and I blinked at him.

“Huh?”

“The oxy pills,” he said. “Where did you get them?”

“A friend,” I said. “You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Do I look like a cop?” he asked, disgust in his voice as he said the last word.

“You look like a male model,” I blurted out without thinking, and he turned to face me with a raised eyebrow. I wanted to stuff my fist into my mouth for saying something so stupid, but he simply burst out laughing as we stopped at a red light. It was such a rich and powerful sound, and it caused the knot in my stomach to loosen a little bit. He sounded like a man who rarely laughed, but the sound was just so mesmerizing.

“A male model?” he asked when he stopped laughing. “That’s a first.”

I tried to smile, but all that came out was a grimace. After all, it was hard to keep a smile on your face when you’d been so close to death only a few minutes ago.

“Anyway,” he continued, “you need to cut off that stupid friend for giving you those pills. It’s obvious that you’re not in the right state of mind to handle something like that. And to wash it down with half a bottle of vodka? You’re lucky I was able to make you throw up in time. A few more minutes and your heart would have stopped.”

“Why did you help me?” I asked.

“Is that really a question?” he replied. “How could I just stand there and watch you throw yourself off a bridge? What kind of person would that make me?”

“It was my choice,” I said. “I have nothing left to live for.”

He was silent for a few seconds, and then he asked, “Mom, dad, spouse or child?”

“What?”

“I’ve seen what loss does to people, Sofia,” he said. “There’s no greater pain on this earth than losing one of those four people. I know what it’s like to feel like the world should just stop, and like there’s nothing worth living for anymore. But I promise you, death is never a solution. That peace you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it buried six feet under.”

I twisted my fingers into a knot as he drove off, a mixture of shame and sadness bubbling up inside me. I thought about the last few weeks, the emptiness that surrounded me all the time, and I wondered if he was right. Was I just running away from reality? Could there really be anything worth living for?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re probably trying to figure out if there’s anything left to live for. I’ve been there. But I can’t tell you what you need to live for. That’s something you need to find on your own.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “Losing a loved one is one thing. But having them snatched away from you for no justifiable reason is the worst punishment you can ever face.”

“I know,” he said. “I watched my mom get shot right in front of me when I was twelve years old.”

I suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been dunked all over me. I stared at him blankly, staring into his eyes and trying to find something that I wasn’t even aware of. I didn’t know what I hoped to find, but I couldn’t look away? Sadness? Pain? Regret? Relief? I just didn’t know what I was looking for.

“My dad was shot right in front of me a few weeks ago,” I said. “And I just stood there and watched it happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “If you’d done anything stupid, you would have been shot to. There’s nothing you could have done.”

The finality with which he said it was surprising. And yet, somehow, it made perfect sense to me. Of course I couldn’t have done anything. Could I have dived in front of the bullet? Shoved my dad out of the way? Could I have reasoned with Marco and begged for my father’s life? Looking back at things, there was absolutely nothing I could have done. And that realization was a humbling thought.

I pointed out the apartment, and Adrian parked right in front. He hopped out of the car and helped me out, then he led me up to the building with a distant look in his eyes.

“Thanks,” I said. “For saving my life, I mean.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’m not leaving until we get some food in your belly and you get some sleep.”

I wanted to protest, but one look from him told me that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. So I kept my mouth shut and allowed him to lead me upstairs.

Who could have known that this would be the way tonight would turn out?