CHAPTER 11

**AVA**
As the taxi follows Pietro's car, my heart beats faster. I'm about to discover more about him and perhaps about the world he belongs to. Pietro's car drives into a more remote part of the city, an unfamiliar neighborhood to me. When he finally stops in front of a building, I ask the driver to park a little farther away.
I get out of the taxi, trying to be as discreet as possible. Pietro enters the building, and I follow from a distance, not missing a single movement. The place is elegant, but there's something dark and mysterious about it. I watch the building in front of me, observing carefully as Pietro goes inside. I decide to follow him, but stop abruptly when I see two guards at the entrance.
Realizing I will never be allowed in with them there, I sigh in defeat and walk back to the sidewalk, calling an Uber to take me back to my apartment. When I get home, the absence of messages or calls from Pietro frustrates me. Determined to know more about him, I sit at my computer and start researching his name. I hope to find some relevant information, but I'm disappointed to find there's not much available about him online.
I keep clicking through various links until a gossip site catches my attention:
"One of the state's most eligible billionaires is single again.", I click on the article and see a photo of Pietro, clearly taken by a paparazzo.
The article, published six months ago, mentions that Pietro had ended a relationship with a beautiful blonde model. This confuses me, and I close the laptop with a sigh. Closing my eyes, I think about Pietro and the 15 submissives he mentioned earlier. Was his ex-girlfriend also a submissive?
I get up, go to the bedroom, and change clothes, trying to rid myself of the doubts tormenting me. I lie down on the bed and turn off the lights, grabbing my phone and sending a message to Pietro:
"I hope everything is okay with you.", I wait, but no response comes. I sigh deeply before falling asleep, feeling frustrated and worried.
On Monday, I’m at work. I hope Pietro will show up at the library as he did before, but he doesn’t. The lack of response to my message only increases my unease. I try to keep my mind occupied by organizing books and helping customers, but my thoughts constantly drift back to Pietro.
The day ends, and as I walk home, I check my phone again. Still no response from Pietro. Feeling rejected and anxious, I type another message:
"Do you not want to talk to me anymore, or are you just too busy?"
I send the message while walking home, quickly changing clothes before heading to the supermarket.
At the supermarket, I try to focus on shopping, but my mind is elsewhere, fixated on Pietro and what might have happened. It feels like I'm living in an endless drama with more questions than answers. Each shelf I pass and each item I pick up feels automatic, as if I’m on autopilot.
As I pick out fruit, my thoughts return to the time I saw Pietro at the restaurant, the intensity of his gaze, and the immediate chemistry we felt. A shiver runs down my spine, remembering how he touched me and made me feel desired and safe at the same time. But now, there is only uncertainty and silence.
At the checkout, I smile politely at the cashier, trying to hide my frustration. I pay for my groceries and head home, still with no response from Pietro. I put away the groceries in the kitchen, trying to distract myself with household chores, but the worry and curiosity won't leave me alone.
Later, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, I pick up my phone once more. I look at the screen, hoping for any sign from Pietro.
Nothing. I then decided to search more for the symbol I saw on the finger of the man who attacked me. I open the laptop again and start typing, looking for any clue that might link Pietro to the dark events of my past.
Hours pass, and I find myself deep in an investigation, reading about secret organizations and esoteric symbols. Finally, exhausted and without concrete answers, I close the laptop. I feel like I’m in a labyrinth with no way out, with each new discovery leading to more questions. I look at the clock and realize it’s late. Not only that, but I decide to try to sleep, though I know it will be hard to turn off my mind.
The next morning, the alarm goes off, and I reluctantly get up. Another workday awaits me. I dress quickly and leave, but the expectation that Pietro might appear at the library still lingers in my mind. I arrive at work and start my tasks, but my heart isn't really in it.
Throughout the day, I watch every person who enters the library, hoping to see Pietro. But he doesn’t show up. I feel increasingly disheartened and worried.
Is he okay? Why isn't he responding to my messages? Is something else going on?
When the workday finally ends, I check my phone again. Still nothing from Pietro. I feel powerless and frustrated. Walking back home, I decide to send one more message, hoping for a response this time:
"I’m worried about you. Please respond.", I walk home, feeling lost and alone.
Arriving home, I change clothes and grab a jacket. I decide to go to the supermarket again, maybe to distract my mind or perhaps to avoid the loneliness of my empty apartment. As I walk through the streets, thoughts about Pietro continue to haunt me.
In the supermarket, I pick up some basic items but can’t concentrate. Everything around me seems like a blur, while my mind is trapped in an endless cycle of doubts and worries. Finally, I return home, feeling exhausted and emotionally drained.
Later, while preparing a simple dinner, I hear a notification on my phone. My heart races, hoping it’s from Pietro. I pick up the phone with trembling hands and see a message from an unknown number:
"Hello, we are from the real estate agency and would like to know if you are still interested in putting your property up for sale. Please call us if you are still interested."
Damn.
My family’s house.
I’ve spent so much time trying to forget that part of my life that I completely forgot about that house.
My house.
My God.
I close my eyes for a few seconds, still holding the phone in my hands. I moved to this city a long time ago, abandoning that house because I couldn’t live in the same place where my family was killed.
I still don’t know what I should do.
I haven’t been back there in almost two years, but I know at some point I need to return to sell that house to someone.
I don’t want that, I don’t want those memories anymore.