A Very Risky Gamble

Chapter 3: Vittoria

She's was hurting.

I turn around and unlock the stall door, and face back to Al to pick her up by putting my arm around her shoulder and place my hand behind the back of her upper thighs to ensure she doesn't end up tripping.

Once we reach the counters where all the faucets are at, I place my palms on both sides of Al's waist to pick her up and sit her upright on the counter.

I reach in the pocket of my jacket for my phone, but I don't feel it.

Shit. I left it at the table.

"Hold on for me Al," I mumble to her, barely holding myself together because I can't manage the thought of my platonic soulmate in pain.

I sprint out of the restroom only to stop when I see the green eyed man leaning on the restroom corridor wall, smoking.

I'm not thinking clearly when I reach up to his cigarette, drop it on the floor, and step on it.

Im not thinking clearly when I start sobbing and rush him inside the women's restroom.

I'm not thinking clearly when I tell him the details of what happened with Al.

I'm not thinking clearly when he offers to take her to his "doctor" friend and accept his offer.

I'm not thinking clearly when I allow him to pick her up bridal style, and lead us out the back exit that leads to an alley where a black SUV is parked.

I'm not thinking clearly when I just nod to whatever he says because I'm a sobbing mess and get in the passenger seat while my best friend is lying unconscious in the backseat.

I can barely comprehend the direction where we are driving to while the green eyed man shouts into his cellphone.

The next ten minutes go by in a blur.

———-
I sit on a couch in the living room of the house of green eyed man's friend.

It's a beige color, while the living room is bigger than my whole apartment. It has high ceilings and the whole house gives me "Roman palace" vibes.

It's not too fancy to the point where it's not homey, because I feel a little more calm sitting on the comfortable cushion of the couch.

I take that back, I'm anything but calm. Dried up tears are painted on my flushed, tan cheeks. I'm lost in thought, the thought that my best friend is in a hospital looking room where the color is drained out of her. And the thought that the man who I should be wary of saw me in my most vulnerable state, because I was too foolish to accept his help.

I should've just called the police for them to send an ambulance. What was I thinking?

I don't even know these people, dangerous or not I should've never trusted them to help my favorite person in this hell-like world.

God, I'm so fucking dumb.

I rub my temples to try to release the tension of my headache. My jacket has been discarded next to me ever since I got here, leaving me in only the sweatpants and cropped tank top that I put on in the morning.

Someone in my peripheral vision made me alert. I turned my head to face the person. It's him.

"She's going to be okay. Marco is just running a few more tests right now. You can see her when he's done." He mumbles.

His voice is the voice of sin. It's dark and powerful, and it brings something out of me that I didn't know was there. Although I'm completely wary of him, I'm  thankful for his help.

That doesn't stop me from asking though.

"Why are you helping me?" I voice my thoughts. "It's not that I'm thankful for helping me, green eyes. But I don't get this game you're playing at."

"I'm not playing at any game, Vittoria," he replies back. "My name is Lorenzo, Lorenzo Silvino. Not green eyes."

She could sense his amusement in the nickname she came up for him. Lorenzo is a pleasant name, it goes well with his last name.

Wait.

"Lorenzo Silvino?" I felt my eyes widen as I say his name out loud.

I've  heard of him. He's known as a notorious killer in the underworld. Whenever I fight in underground rings, there are always whispers about him. I've  heard many people bet money on who would win a fight, him or me. Nobody knows his face, only the name. I'm going to admit that that is a smart way to go on about being someone like him in the underworld.

I was about to mock him about saving me instead of killing me right away, but some else entered the living room.

Marco, I presume, is that someone.

He is tall, but a few inches shorter than Lo. He has very curly hair and a sharp jawline. His skin tone is practically the same as mine, which is because he looks like he has a Mexican heritage like myself.

"Vittoria right?" he questions. His voice is more velvety than Lo's.

Why am I comparing him to Lorenzo?

"Yes, that would be me. Marco, right?" My eyes dart between Lo and him, but the green eyed man was already observing me.

"That's correct, you're friend is awake. I do have to tell you something though."

"Go on."

"This purely confidential, and she didn't want to have to tell you so she asked me to." he mumbles. What he says next shocks me to the fucking core.

"She's pregnant."

————

HOW WAS IT?? I rewrote this chapter completely cause I deleted the whole book. anyways yeah

wc: 1528