I shiver in the backseat of the black Jeep. The leather seats are like smooth ice cubes on the exposed skin of my lower back and my thighs. The windows are heavily tinted; blanketing the outside world in a flimsy darkness and dulling the bright city lights as we bolt through highway.
We’re going really fast.
I steal a glance at Dmitri who’s sitting next to me. We make eye contact, and I awkwardly dart my gaze away, still feeling his eyes burning into me.
I pretend to scratch the back of my ear, and in the process pull forward a curtain of dark hair, so my side profile is partially hidden from his intrusively unhinged gaze.
He’s been staring at me since we got in the car, after he’d said something to his driver in Italian —probably so I don’t understand.
I blink, glance out the window
