Dove"Come closer," Don Vincenzo said. "Let me look at you."I made my feet move. Four steps into that gold room, and I stopped, and stood there in Elio's shirt with my bare legs and my bruises and my heart trying to climb out of my throat.The old man looked me over.He did it slowly. Thoroughly. The way you'd examine a horse, or a painting someone was trying to sell you, and there was nothing in his eyes at all. No lust, no interest, nothing so human as either. Just assessment. He took in the shirt, and where it must have come from, and my bare feet, and he let his gaze travel to the ugly purple bruising down my arm and the marks on my wrist, and something in his mouth moved that wasn't a smile."And who," he said, "are you?"I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wrecked my brain thinking of what to say. What would Elio want me to say? I glanced at him for help, but he just kept a straight face. Lie, Dove. Say something inconspicuous. I tell myself.But what do I say? Every li
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-08-06 Read More