Chapter 11

• Dominic Castellano
• The day dawned gray, as if even the weather reflected the storm raging inside me. The night had been long, filled with cigarette smoke and whiskey, but exhaustion wasn’t enough to make me crash. The mattress was a battlefield, sheets tangled from restless movements, and for a few moments, it was as if I could still smell her—vanilla and sin. Or maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, torturing me with the memory of that damn woman.
• She existed. I knew she did.