Guns, Not Roses

~Chapter Twelve: White Dresses, White Lies~

Choices.

Life was all about choices.

Wake up in the morning, or enjoy a luxurious day of sleeping in? Wear the pin-striped suit that makes you resemble a Wall Street goat, or the black one that gives you the look of a mortician?

Mundane choices versus the life-changing ones.

Was killing Savannah a mundane choice, or a life-changing one?

In Room 232 of the Hotel Paparazzo, Anthony Dekker watched her from the cream leather sofa beside the bed almost objectively, waiting for her to awaken from her slumber. She hadn’t changed, it was true, but there was something that hadn’t been there before; something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He didn’t have long to think before she stirred, stretching herself out in the likeness of a feline, eyes still squeezed shut, oblivious to her surroundings – and perhaps she was. Perhaps she thought the events of the night before were a dream.

Put a bullet in her head, Dekker. Anthony’s instinct was incessant.

Savannah’s eyes finally focused on him and she curled herself into a small ball as far away from him as possible, shock mirrored in her eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dekker said calmly. “Today,” he added as an afterthought, loosening the tie that was threatening to constrict his oesophagus.

Savannah’s eyes instantly turned to slits. “I’m not afraid of you,” she spat, unfurling her lithe form.

He regarded her for a few seconds. “That’s a pity.”

“Where are we?” She got off the bed and padded towards the window, her grubby dress clinging to her body, leaving little to the imagination. Anthony watched her, waiting for her reaction once she saw –

“What are we doing in Montepega?” Savannah’s voice was glacial as she turned around to face him.

Anthony stood up, ignoring her question, and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Savannah watched him go, her mind reeling. If Tony thought this was a funny joke, he was sadly mistaken. Forcefully removing her off her father’s island, drugging her, then taking her to another godforsaken island for kicks was hardly any way of stepping back into someone else’s life unannounced.

It had been years since she’d last seen him, and he had changed immensely. The truth was: She was scared of him; scared of this icy character he had become.

He reminded her of his father.

I have to get out of here, she thought, suddenly rushing to the door in a frenzied state. As she’d suspected, it was locked. With one of those stupid cards.

Sighing, she returned to the rumpled bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, wishing she were back in her own room. She chastised herself for throwing Ivanka’s hospitality and Angelino’s protection in their faces.

The bathroom door opened and Anthony emerged, dressed in noir jeans and a sea-green T-shirt. The suit was gone, and the old Tony was there.

“You can take a shower,” he said gruffly, motioning for her to go in. “I’ve ordered a new dress for you, so don’t worry about clothing.”

“Why have you kidnapped me?” Savannah cursed inwardly, regretting her words. She knew how stupid she sounded.

“Why do people do the things they do? Because they have to.” His voice was deep and naturally sonorous, but there was close to no emotion in it. Nevertheless, Savannah felt the familiar tight pull in her abdomen that instantly took her years back, to her dorm room, where she and this stranger had finally consummated. She quickly shook the feeling away.