I was five minutes into pretending everything was normal when Marco stormed into the café near campus like a man on a mission. His hair looked like he'd tried to fight the wind and lost. Again.
He slammed his tray on the table and hissed, "Explain. Now."
I took a calm sip of my iced coffee like I wasn't internally screaming inside. "Explain what?"
He looked around like we were in some kind of spy thriller and leaned in like a gossiping aunt at a family reunion. "Alfio. The black car. The scary mafia-looking guy who glared at you like he owned you. The man you bowed to. The one you called 'Sir.' The one who looked like your sugar daddy."
He whisper-screamed the last part like it was a slur.
I blinked. "I told you I was a guest."
Marco looked like he was ready to slap the espresso out of me. "A guest of a man who buries bodies in concrete?!"
I avoided his eyes and sipped my coffee like it had answers.
