The third day with Luciano had me grumbling. I was sick and tired of the routine. When I got back home, I couldn’t go anywhere or even do anything.

It felt like I was caged and it didn’t feel different from being a prisoner. Luciano walked inside the kitchen when I was trying to make ginger tea.

“You should reduce your voice when grumbling.” he muttered.

Imagine! Gosh I wish I could commit murder and be heartless like him.

“Don’t even start,” I warned.

“I’m not doing shit, Tiffany. You’re the one grumbling and I don’t even get why.”

“Oh you don’t? I’ll tell you fucking why. I am sick...