Angelica Marciano marches towards me with strong strides, and just when I think he’s going to do something to me, he walks past.“I’m not,” I mutter under my breath, but I doubt he heard me, because he doesn’t acknowledge that I’ve spoken. Dropping the shot glass on the bar, I follow after him. At first, he doesn’t mind, but when he notices I’ve followed him into his room, he stops and turns to me, a brow raised.“What is the matter?” He asks, voice hard, just like the look on his face.“I’d like to talk to y-you.” I haven’t felt the effect of the shots yet, except for the disgusting taste they left behind in my mouth and throat. “Go to your room, Angelica. I have a flight to catch in the morning.”“A-a flight?” I ask, surprised.“Yes, Angelica. A flight,” he responds in a clipped tone, like he’s talking to a child he’s stressed out by. “Go back to your room,” he says and places his hands on my shoulder, pushing me out slowly until I’m on the other side of the doorframe. Then, he p
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