Untamed Hearts

8 - So Now The Truth Comes Out

VIII. So Now the Truth Comes Out

  Madison Shepherd

 The houses were getting more mundane and less grand as Angelo drove into the strictly working class district of North Beach. He turned into a street and parked in front of a little yellow house. He helped me out of the car and up the steps.

The house was quiet and smelled like roses. It was also very silent.

"Mama took the kids to San Diego for the weekend," he explained.

I nodded and looked anywhere else.

"Come on," he said leading me up the stairs. "You need to clean up." He opened the door to a small cozy room, with a queen sized bed, a work table and a chair by the window, there was a bookshelf with thick volumes in it and another pile of books next to it and a small bedside table. The bed was made neatly and the room was tidy.

 "There's a bathroom over there," he jerked his head to a door in the corner, "in case you need a moment."

  I marched into the bathroom and closed the door. I ran the tap and doused my face with the cool water. The shock was beginning to wear off and in its place came anger. Anger at my own pathetic helplessness, anger at Carson and..... anger at Angelo. Why was he helping me? He had made it as clear as possible that he didn't want anything to do with me. So why the hell was he here now?

  Scowling, I opened the door and stepped back into the room. Angelo was at the far side of the room, as far away as he could get from me.

Well, I was certainly not going to make it easy for him. If he wanted me gone, he was going to have to tell me himself. I walked over to the desk and inspected the items. A laptop, some sheet music notes, leather bound volume. Picking it up, I flipped idly through the pages.

"Put it down, Madison," he said to me impatiently, "We do not touch things that don't belong to us."

I ignored him and my attention zeroed in on a small black box with gray lining at the edges and intricate engravings. I took it and studied the design. Angelo was across the room in a flash, he took the box from my hand very carefully avoiding any physical contact.

"That's right," I said savagely and clenched my fists at my side, "Careful or you might get a disease."

Emotion flickered in his eyes and he looked away.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" I shouted.

Instead he turned his back to me and went to the window. I knew he was watching my movement in the reflection and I imagined how I must look to him, pacing around with my torn dress, scratches on my face and arms- like a true damsel in distress.

When he turned, his gaze was fixed on my face. "I think," he said after some time, "that I'd better get you home."

And in that instant, I wanted to make him hurt. I wanted to make him feel something. I was tired of the games, his mood swings, and trying to penetrate the granite wall that was Angelo Tallerico.

"Why do you hate me?" I blurted out.

He stopped abruptly and looked at me in disbelief and genuine shock. "What did you say?" he whispered.

"I know it's not nice to assume," I swallowed, "but I want to know."

"You don't know what you're saying," he said coldly.

"I do!" I flung back. "Why do you hate me so much, Angelo Tallerico?" He was about to say something but I swept on, "I see it in your eyes. Ever since that stupid party, I tried to be your friend but you've thrown it back in my face. Snubbing me in public and just generally humiliating me. I apologized for what happened with Carson, didn't I? But you're just too stubborn to let it go."