The Protector 2

By Renata W. Müller

As the old saying goes, you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. It was never Raven Bertone’s fault that she was born into the most influential mafia dynasty on the East Coast of the United States. As the revenge-driven members of a rival family seek to take her life, she learns, children must often pay for the mistakes of their parents and grandparents. She promises herself that she will never ever get involved with a man who has the slightest link to the underworld. To hell with those charming, hot bad boys!  Here’s to you, shy, gentle bookworms! But vows are made to be broken, so when Rafe Harlan, the cute drug dealer of the university storms into Raven’s life like an whirlwind, this girl surrenders to the temptation. The guy wins not only her trust but her heart as well, and when he smashes it to pieces, they part ways. But not for good…

Years later, when the mafia bears down on Raven once more and she has to flee, it’s a trick of fate that her safety depends on the very person who has already broken her heart, and crushed her trust.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Werthmüller Renáta
• Release date: Jan 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9786156306012

Book preview

Chapter One

Rafe

The determination to show Mr Bertone my usual serious-professional face that I wear on a security-escort job fails pitifully the moment she makes an appearance in the office. Until ten seconds ago I could have sworn that there’s nothing in this world that could distract me from this role, but I was very wrong. There’s only one person who can pull the rug from under me. It’s this girl, who’s no longer a girl; she’s much more like a mind-blowingly beautiful, insanely sexy, twenty-six-year-old woman. The only person for whom I ever lost my mind and for whose sake I made a complete fool of myself at university. The woman I was ready to marry, but who dragged my feelings through mud. Are my senses playing a trick with me, or is it really Raven, my young love, standing in front of me, in Emilio Bertone’s house?

Paralyzed, I stare at the fully impossible scene as Alessandro Bertone, with his hand cosily on her shoulder, walks her into the office; then the other Bertone kid also comes over to her and hugs her. As if under a spell, my eyes are glued to the beautiful face, on the lush line of her mouth, on the widely open bluish green eyes that are fixed on me now, and in which I can immerse myself forever. As we stare at one another, for a few moments I perfectly fall out of my role, which doesn’t happen to me normally. Especially not if it’s about work. What the fuck is going on? Are they having fun with me? Or is this a prank? – Such questions are echoing in my dizzy consciousness, although, seeing the sheer astonishment on Raven’s face, I don’t think she expected to see me either. The old Bertone man’s voice hits my ear from afar, like a roar.

Mr. Harlan, this is your client, my niece, Miss Raven Bertone.

By the time I can finally close my mouth, my throat feels so tight that I can hardly squeeze a sound out. Hoarsely, I ask a question without averting my eyes from Raven.

Y… your niece? Did you not say… your daughter? I stammer, because when we spoke on the phone, he actually mentioned his daughter.

Raven is my niece, he waves his hand with annoyance, as if not understanding why I’m messing with such details. But she could be my daughter too, since my wife and I have been raising her since her childhood. She grew up with my sons, they are more like siblings than cousins.

I watch the woman who used to mean everything to me, as the two dark-skinned Bertones hug her from both sides, and a sinister suspicion wakes in me. The hands of the men are resting gently on Raven’s shoulders as they push her closer to me, and as I watch the scene, my heart seems to miss a beat. Two men and a woman. Siblings. Cousins. Relatives. Raven Bertone, the mafia boss’, Emilio Bertone’s niece. The girl I fell in love with at university, a member of Cosa Nostra. And some people want to kill her.

The edge of my mouth painfully jerks as mental images from eight years ago occur to me of a girl who, in the company of two young men, drives off in a red sports car, right in front of my eyes. I feel the blood leaving my cheeks, my hands make two fists, and my breathing becomes heavy. This can’t be true! Please, somebody say that it’s not true!

I completely lose my sense of time, I have no idea how long my eyes have been moving from one to the other, when Chris steps up to me, and places a hand on my shoulder.

Is everything all right, dude? he asks with concern.

I look at him with embarrassment, then turn towards the window and close my eyes. I dig my fingers into my hair, and curse out in thought. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but I have to compose myself if I don’t want them to take me for an unskilled idiot. I take a deep breath, then slowly let the air out, and before turning back, I try to conjure the security escort pro mask on my face. I clear my throat, and speak up with a firm voice.

Everything is great.

Do you think you can do it? Sandro interrupts with a furrowed brow, and although it’s not obvious whom he’s talking to, I respond.

Absolutely. Everything will be as we’ve discussed, I say, reaching out a hand to Raven. Miss Bertone.

She stares at my hand for a while, then looks at me, and stretches out her hand towards me with uncertainty. When she speaks, I can hardly hear it.

Mr. Harlan.

Her fingers are ice cold, and my palm is hot as live coal as our skins touch again after eight years of separation. Her hand perfectly nestles into my grip, her touch wakes long-slumbering emotions and confusing impulses in me. Before I get too comfortable, though, she withdraws her hand, and takes a step backwards. She turns away, and begins to fidget with her hair, just like long ago, whenever she was nervous. I break out in sweat; I need all my self-control to keep myself together.

Raven is standing as far as possible from me, with her arms and legs folded in front of her, in a defensive pose. She turns towards the bookshelf, as if studying Bertone’s collection, but her whole body is tense like a pulled bow.

Meanwhile I manage to pull myself together, so I can communicate with a decent voice, and confirm the details regarding the departure. The Bertones – considering their circumstances – are acting perfectly normal. Nothing suggests that they might have the foggiest idea about Raven and I knowing one another. I bet she’s never mentioned my name to her family, or else I would be long dead, no doubt about that.

The sooner we leave, the better. Three men will be escorting us from my team. That means, we will be five people. Is everything okay with the house? I turn to Emilio, but Sandro answers for him.

All is as we’ve discussed. The equipment is also there. The rest of it, bulletproof vests and the automatics are in the embedded part of the trunk.

You’ll take the A T-98. It can get through a wall, if need be, Chris joins in, referring to the shell-proof vehicle, then he glances at Raven apologetically. Of course, it’s quite unlikely you’ll need anything like that. But let’s be careful.

Raven pulls a little smile, and glances in the door’s direction.

We can only take the absolute necessities, I say, turning towards her, surprised at the way my voice noticeably softens when I talk to her. A suitcase is out of the question. A rucksack would be most ideal. The sturdy, military kind, with pockets and a waistband, I say, listing the details. Raven raises her eyebrows, and her grumpy stare that says ‘Are you taking me for a fool or what?’ is almost piercing me through. Oh God. I’m done. This is too much.

I quickly take my eyes off her, and look at Chris inquisitively.

No problem. We’ll have it in an hour.

I’ll be back at two forty-five. We’re leaving at three, sharp, I look at Raven significantly, who shrugs her shoulders with irritation, and makes a show of turning her back on me.

I’m off to pack, then, she says, addressing her words strictly to her uncle.

All right, the old man nods, and I hear unusual tenderness in his voice. Claire will help with everything you need.

Thank you, she mumbles, and stepping up to him, she plants a kiss on the old Bertone guy’s cheek, then with a half smile, she waves to the boys. Finally she turns to me, and speaks with such an icy voice that even the air freezes in the office.

Mr. Harlan.

She doesn’t give me her hand.

At three, Miss Bertone, I repeat with strictness.

Mr. Bertone waits until the door closes behind Raven, and only speaks afterwards.

The boys will take you to the state border, to make sure nobody unwanted is following you.

Discretion is critical in this issue, Mr. Bertone. Other than me and my people, nobody can know of our whereabouts.

That’s clear, Sandro snorts. Other than the three of us, nobody knows about the safe house.

That’s correct, the old man confirms. And I transferred the money this morning. To two separate accounts, as you asked.

Okay.

And this, here, he says, taking a thick envelope out of his desk drawer, this, you’ll take with you. You never know. There’s no better friend than some cash in the hand, my boy.

Seeming perfectly calm, keeping my emotions and movements in perfect control, I leave the Bertone estate. But when I drive out of the gigantic iron gate and reach the nearest side street, I step into the brake right after the turn, and swerve the car to the side. I squeeze the steering wheel with the strength of a bull, pressing the back of my neck strongly against the head rest. Loudly, I let out the air that – I feel – I have been holding in from the moment I found myself facing Raven, in the old Bertone man’s office. I recognized her at once. I wasn’t far from dropping to the floor when I saw the face that had burnt into my retina forever. The same girl I once knew, and yet, not the same at all. She has filled out, and gained some shape all at the right places. She looks more sensual than ever. I recognized her with my brain, my eyes, my senses, and my dick that hardened on command, God damn it. I’m just staring in front of myself, and think I’m only beginning to realize what’s happened. The previous hour was a crazy emotional roller coaster, and I’m only beginning to wake up from it. This morning as I got out of my bed, I was preparing to do a risky, but super well-paying job commissioned by the most influencial mafia boss of Pennsylvania. Personal protection. My field. I’ve been working with the very best for years. There have been risky situations, but I have never ever lost a client. I would never have believed in this life that the person whose life I will be entrusted with is the only woman on this fucking earth with whom I was so much in love that I almost died. Her life, from now on, is only in my hands. The woman I have loved, hated, cursed, adored and despised at the same time, for eight years. Up to this day, I have considered myself the one who was cheated on in this ugly story, but I’m not sure about anything anymore. Seeing her with her two cousins, a horrible suspicion woke inside me, and if the situation is indeed what I’m suspecting, then I’m the most miserable loser of this universe.

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Raven

As I step out of the office, I close the door behind me and push my forehead against it from the outside, with exhaustion. I don’t intend to eavesdrop, I simply want to let the steam out after this shocking scene, but when I hear the noises from inside, I just can’t resist. I begin to listen, pressing my ear against the door.

They’re talking about the safe house and the money. Looks like, out of all the existing security escort firms, my uncle has specifically chosen Rafe Harlan’s, to entrust him with my life. That’s just grand! Of course, they didn’t share with me how much his fee is going to be for the accomplished job, but I’m quite sure my uncle is not a miser when it comes to my security. And if he is ready to entrust Rafe Harlan with my life, then the guy must really be the best in the profession. Of course, this also means that Rafe is a paid employee of the Bertones. As a consequence, he’s my personal paid employee as well. My bodyguard, if you like, and I am his boss. And I can be a very unpleasant boss if necessary – I ponder silently.

I hear some movement inside, so I quickly pull away from the door, and start for the flight of stairs at great speed.

While going through my stuff in my room, I try to work out what it is that I really feel, but I can’t seem to put into words the chaos that’s inside me. It’s something near shock, surprise, fear and anger. Or perhaps, a mixture of all these. Rafe’s unexpected recurrence after eight years is waking long-buried feelings inside me, and it rips wounds that I’ve considered fully healed. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, and now, here he comes again, in one of the most shocking periods of my life. I don’t have the foggiest idea how things will be from now on, but there’s one thing I promise myself. From now on, the situation between us will be completely different.

I didn’t like the commanding style in which he was talking to me, but I wanted to behave myself for my uncle. Later, though, I will thoroughly kick Mr. Harlan in the arse if he continues acting like a genius with his sexy stare and bulging muscles. He can go to hell with his gloomy, cool, professional bodyguard impression. I’m no longer the same naïve, innocent flower whose virginity was taken by this conceited arsehole at university. I’m now a grown woman, and I don’t let anyone mess with me. And if Rafe Harlan shows no respect towards me, he’ll soon regret taking this job – I think to myself.

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It’s about half past five when we cross the state border heading north-west. Back when we left, I grumpily nestled myself on the back seat, and since Rafe has also been wrapping himself in silence, we’ve only exchanged a few quick glances in the rear view mirror. Rage, frustration and despair are storming wildly inside me. Saying goodbye to the family was brief but painful. None of us said it, but the unsettling thought was in the air that should things end badly, this was the last time we’d seen each other alive. I now run for my life with the depressing knowledge that the lives of my loved ones might even get in worse danger than mine, once the hunt for the mysterious attacker commences. And, in addition to all that, who knows for how long I will be forced to be with the only man whom I didn’t want to see in my life ever again.

Rafe casts flat glances at me in the rear view mirror, but instead of saying anything, he looks away whenever our eyes meet.

Since we don’t speak, I have a chance to take a better look at his semi-profile. He’s become manlier, there is no doubt about that. A strong chin, a straight nose, and that still kissab… nicely curving, lush mouth. Back at university he was also tall and sporty, but he’s become much sturdier since then – I analyse him in thought. There are a few newly obtained wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his face is craggy, and his stare is suggestive. Definitely not the smooth, classic male beauty, like my cousin Chris. There’s some morose grumpiness on his face whenever he looks at me, which – damn it – only makes him more attractive. Even though his body is covered with a long-sleeved sweater, I can still spot the tattoos on his arm, and who knows where else on his body. Before my thoughts would get too deep under the clothes of my charming bodyguard, Rafe’s low voice brings me back from my musings.

Are you hungry? Would you like to eat or drink something?

Is this for real? – I rage inside. Where are we? At nursery? Are we really going to pretend not to know one another?

I can’t take it anymore. I angrily grab the back rest of the front seat, and try to pull myself foreward, but the belt won’t let me. Angrily, I unfasten it, and push myself forward in the seat.

What the fuck is going on, Rafe?

He sends me a sharp look from the mirror, and speaks up with a threatening voice.

Fasten the seat belt back on.

Fuck your belt, Harlan! I bark, but seeing that the corner of his mouth jerks nervously, and his grip tightens on the wheel, I heave an irritated sigh, and fasten the belt again. If this is some kind of trick or prank, you’ll be really sorry for it later. My uncle and my cousins will get you, I mumble angrily.

Oh, really, he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Stop acting like an idiot. I know fine well that you recognized me the moment I stepped into the office.

He clears his throat and twists his neck all around, as if his collars were too tight, even though he’s not wearing any.

I have a security-escort firm. This is not my first commission with Mr. Bertone.

You work for the mafia? I ask sharply with a frown, although, being familiar with his record, I don’t know why I’m even surprised.

He pulls a face as he looks at me in the mirror.

"And you are a member of the mafia. I don’t know which is worse," he remarks strongly.

With frustration, I throw myself back in the seat, rolling my eyes. Shit! That was on point, but I won’t leave it at that.

I’m not a member, I respond firmly. My father was.

We are quiet for a while, and in the meantime, Rafe narrows his eyes. He’s obviously mulling over the information in his head. After a short while, with caution, he speaks again.

Your father was… Emilio’s brother?

I nod stiffly.

Matteo Bertone.

But you said…

It’s exactly as I said. My mother and he, they both were killed in a car accident, I interrupt.

Accident? he looks back at me doubtfully.

I don’t answer that. Instead, I turn my face towards the window, signalling that I don’t want to get into the details.

Again, we are quiet for a while, then I ask him a question that I just can’t keep inside.

Did you know what this job was about before we met? I focus all my attention on his profile, so that I can read whether he’s telling the truth or not.

No, he shakes his head, still concentrating on the road.

But the Bertone name, I keep pressing on.

Of course, I knew the name, but as I said, this hadn’t been my first job with the family. I had worked for them before.

You worked for them? I ask with expectation.

Yeah. We provide security escort for delicate transfers. Personal and safeguarding on certain occasions of… deliveries that require discretion, he concludes, studying the rear view mirror with narrowed eyes.

My stomach painfully jerks on hearing his words. It was exactly at a sensitive delivery like this that my father killed someone, from which the whole revenge crucade started, and hasn’t ended since.

Besides, the name Bertone is quite a usual one in this region.

Bullshit, I mumble between my teeth, although I’m aware of the fact that he’s telling the truth.

When Mr. Bertone requested that I do this job, he told me it was about his daughter. Since you told me l-l-long ago… I mean, back then, he stammers, "that your parents were dead, I didn’t see the connection. If I remember correctly, somehow you forgot to mention at the time that your family is that certain Bertone clan. Perhaps if I had known that your uncle was one of the dons in the Pennsylvanian organization…"

Rafe’s voice is full of resentment and hurt. I keep gulping, strongly clutching the edge of the leather seat. With all my might, I fight the tears that are about to well up as a lump is formed in my throat. Indeed, I wasn’t fully honest with him at university, but I had a reason for that. I didn’t lie to him, I just didn’t reveal every detail regarding my family background. Is that a deadly sin?

He likes to call me his daughter. He’s always treated me as if I was that. He never made a difference between me and the boys, I interrupt, before he could go too deep into the accusations. Because, now that we’ve gone this far, I would also have some things to add to the list, but I swallow my anger. I fold my arms tight at my front, and make a show of turning my head and staring out of the windshield, and we are silent for the rest of the journey.

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It’s already dark when I drowsily try to open my eyes, taking guesses at where we are. The last hour of the journey is nothing but a blank, as I simply fell asleep in the car. I wake up to Rafe calling my name, and turning around in his driver’s seat, he keeps staring into my face. I feel embarrassed in front of his piercing stare. Who knows how long he’s been looking at me, while I slept with my head tilted, perhaps even with an open mouth. Not that we haven’t been in much more intimate situations before, but that was different. Different times, a different life, a different Raven.

Rafe gets out, walks around the car, and opens the door on my side. Courteously, he extends a hand to me, but I don’t take it; I only thank him for the gesture with a nod. Yet, I make a note to myself that Mr. Harlan is great in the role of devoted bodyguard.

Just then, I notice that two Harleys are parked behind the car. One is by itself, and on the other, a leather-clad guy is sitting, with a pistol in his hand. His eyes are fixed on the house. He must be with us, one of the escorts Rafe was talking about. 

Although it’s quite dark, I can still see that we are in a woody area, among trees, far out in the wild. I keep looking around, but I don’t see another house nearby. The safe house is a two-storey miracle with a veranda, built from wooden planks. It’s a real romantic dream in the forest, which I would adore if I didn’t have to spend time in it under the given circumstances, under pressure. The house belongs to my uncle, but so far I’ve had no idea about the existence of this place. I’m not surprised about it, though, as the building has always been used exclusively in emergency situations, for hiding. I also suspect that my uncle has several similar properties in this country, or maybe abroad too. People who live like the Bertone clan and participate in the kind of businesses that they pursue, have to be prepared for any possibilities.

I would like to approach the veranda to look around, but I feel a strong grip on my lower arm. Rafe pulls me back, and shakes his head quietly.

We’re still waiting, he whispers. Gunner and Rita are checking the house first. We only go inside on their signal, if all is clear.

Rita? I ask, raising my eyebrows, on hearing the name of a woman. I hate the feeling, but I actually break out in sweat at the thought that Rafe has brought a woman here with him.

There’s nothing to worry about, he nods encouragingly. This is not their first time. They know their stuff. There won’t be a problem, he says, looking straight in my eyes, with a soft voice that sends a hot shiver down my spine. There won’t be a problem, all right. I’m already in deep trouble. Grumpily, I shrug my shoulders, and folding my arms in front of myself, I lean against the car’s shell-proof side. Rafe in the meantime takes out our luggage, and exchanges a few words with the guy sitting on the Harley, while keeping his eyes on me all the time. After a few minutes the lights come on in the house, and a big, bald, bearded man in a leather jacket appears on the veranda. Touching his right thumb together with his forefinger, he signals that everything is okay inside.

Okay. All clear. We can go in, says Rafe, stepping up to me, and nods towards the house. Mac! he turns back to the armed guy. Park the car the usual way. Garage, entrance from the side.

The guy nods silently, and lifting his forefinger curtly to his cap, signals that he gets the picture.

The air is a bit stuffy in here, but it’s not too bad. At least not as bad as what I have prepared myself for. The furniture looks clean, and as I take a look around the kitchen, opening the cabinets, looking into the pantry, there’s perfect order everywhere. There are non-perishable food supplies piled up all over the place. Tins, tubes, pasta, rice, oil, mineral water, in plenty. Somebody must have been here prior to our arrival to tidy up the house, for sure. At the bottom of the stairs Rafe appears, and takes my huge backpack into his hands.

There are two bedrooms upstairs. The one facing south will be yours, and I will sleep in the other. Rita and Gunner will be sharing the one downstairs. Mac takes the sofa, he states firmly, and I’m just staring at him, without making a move.

It might be embarrassing, but from his whole monologue the only thing that has reached my consciousness is that it isn’t Rafe but the other chap sharing the bedroom with sexy Rita. We have already checked each other out with the rocker-looking girl, and I’ve noted to myself that she is really quite hot. She wears tight leather pants, and most of her hair is dyed blue, yet, it somehow suits her. Even the tattoos on her neck seem to be decent. She’s not so young anymore, but her face is pretty. Really cool. A typical motorbike-chick, one that attracts the eyes of men like a magnet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe also liked her, even if Rita is older than him. Although it’s mone of my business, it still feels nice to hear that Rita shares the bedroom with Gunner, and I assume they share the bed too. From what I’ve seen of them, I think they are an item. I make sure my contentment doesn’t show on my face, though. I look at Rafe provokingly, tilting my head, but I don’t leave the kitchen.

Your room is upstairs, he repeats, this time with a bit more emphasis.

So?

Go upstairs, and make yourself at home, he orders, and I’m beginning to get upset.

I’ll go up later.

Go now! he storms at me, then, clearing his throat, he continues low-key. Don’t unpack too much. Only take out what’s absolutely necessary. If we have to leave the house unexpectedly, we won’t have time to bother packing.

Unexpectedly? I raise my eyebrows with provocation. "I thought this was a safe house. Safe, and all."

Rafe murmurs something ugly under his nose, and takes deep yoga breaths. He is bursting with anger, and I feel very satisfied with myself.

It is. Y-yet, we have to be prepared for every possibility.

I pull my hand along the kitchen counter.

I’m hungry, I say teasingly.

Rafe slowly smooths his face with his palm, apparently trying to force calmness on himself. It doesn’t escape my attention how his fists are clenching by his sides, in and out, in and out.

Rita will make something for dinner, he says quietly, yet his voice is shaking with temper. Mac and I are going to check things out around the house. Now go upstairs into the bedroom, he looks at me with burning blue eyes and quivering lips. As I’m still not making a move, he adds: Please.

I heave a deep sigh, and rolling my eyes, as slow as I can, I start for the steps. I shuffle past Rafe, who pulls to the side to make way. Swaying my butt a bit more than usual, I start climbing the steps, with Rafe in my wake. I acknowledge with contentment that a mix of cursing and moaning breaks from him while walking behind me. I pull a cheeky smile. As a means of revenge, I purposefully apply the fine hip moves that I mastered on the catwalk. From the way Rafe drops my stuff on the floor and slams the door of my room behind him as he leaves, I know that the torture was effective.

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From the window, I watch the men seeing to each of the motion sensors which were set up last night in a twenty meter radius from the house. Rafe and Gunner were working out in the dark until late to secure the house on all four sides from the occurrence of unwanted visitors. Mac has also set up a spontaneous observatory in the living room, connecting two laptops with the signalling devices outside. The screens are divided, covering the vicinity of the house, in 360 degrees. Mac has explained that the infra cameras are providing the two laptops with constant information, and when the sensors sense motion, a loud beep indicates there is some action outside. The boys have tested the system a few times to see if everything was working perfectly, and it was already dawning when I heard the neighbouring bedroom’s door was closing. But they don’t all sleep at the same time. When I got up to pee at night, I saw Mac fiddling with the laptop on the sofa. I guess they’ve worked out a schedule between each other, to make sure one person is always awake while the others are sleeping. An unpleasant feeling comes over me at the thought that Mac is staying awake because of me. I know this is just a job for him for which he probably gets generously paid, but still. The thought doesn’t fill me with much joy that I am the subject of this job, myself. I hate that my role is yet again the victim’s, who is in need of protection. I wonder if Rafe also considers me no more than work. Whatever it may be, I won’t make his job easier, that’s for sure. Let him work hard for the fortune my uncle pays him – I sulk, but since I can also feel how juvenile my attitude is, I am just as angry with myself as I am with him.

Last night I had supper in my room. Although Rita asked me very kindly if I wanted to join them downstairs to eat, I grumpily turned the offer down. I only had a coffee for breakfast, even that, in my room. I read, walk up and down between the door and the window, then I read again, only to get upset about why I can’t concentrate on the book. I just can’t find my place, and then, as I see that the men are outside, running their checking circles around the house, I decide to end my voluntary exile. I was even rude with them yesterday, which makes me feel ashamed. It’s not their fault that Rafe Harlan is an arsehole. I can’t take my anger out on them. And besides, here I am buried alive, God knows where. I desperately need every friendly smile and kind gesture.

Rita is busy in the kitchen, cleaning vegetables when I make my way into the living room with uncertain footsteps. I feel slightly embarrassed about how I behaved yesterday. I pretend to be busy studying the raw wood casing on the inside of the house, honestly hoping that Rita won’t make it harder on me. She looks at me and turns back to the vegetables without saying anything. I carefully step closer to the kitchen counter, and pull a little smile.

Can I help?

Rita lifts her eyes on me, and slowly smiles. A huge wave of relief washes over me.

Are you hungry? she asks.

It’s not too bad, I shrug my shoulders. I don’t have a big appetite.

She eyes me with pity.

Well, I’m not surprised about that, dear, she sighs. Then she nods her head towards the rest of the vegetables, and hands me the peeler. If you could take this from me, I can go ahead and chop up the meat.

I roll up the sleeve of my blouse and start peeling.

What was your plan? I ask, nodding towards the currently empty, gigantic saucepan.

"Something simple. With a lot of meat and pasta. And the stress is on a lot, if you know what I mean," she laughs out loud, pointing her chin to the window, referring to the men.

I know what she means. Growing up with two boy cousins, I have some idea about the amount of food males are able to consume. I laugh with her, shaking my head at the funny memory of Chris and Sandro’s competition called ‘who can eat more hotdogs without throwing it all up’. I miss the boys, even though it’s only been a day. I feel terribly lonely.

For a while we work silently, and the only noises filling the air are the scratching of the peeler and the knife knocking against the wodden cutting board. In a short time, I pull myself together and glance to the side.

I want to apologize for yesterday. I was very rude. I’m not usually such a jerk, especially not with those who don’t even deserve it, I say with interruptions. So, I want to say sorry.

Rita lifts her warm brown eyes on me, and gives me a big smile. The smile makes her face even more beautiful.

Let’s forget about it, dear. It happens, she says, and pushes me playfully with her hip. This makes me smile too. I get on with the work, but can’t keep quiet for very long. I lift my face to the ceiling, and the words of dejection break from my lips.

The thing is, this whole issue wears me out. Forty-eight hours ago I still had a life. Plans and goals. But now, I drop my hands to my sides with frustration, I’m fleeing from some madman, hiding in this far corner of the world, locked together with strangers. I quickly come to my senses, and blink in Rita’s direction with alarm. Oh God. I’m such a moron, please, forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I didn’t mean to say…

Just chill! Relax, she puts her hand calmingly on my lower arm. I’m not feeling hurt. I know that you’re in a crappy situation. I understand that you are freaked out. You’re fine.

I’m just so shattered, I say, exhaling loudly, and my eyes