ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 270: One turn at a time.

Chapter 270

KATYA POV

The walk to Michael’s car felt longer than it should have. Chiara leaned heavily into me, her steps uneven now that the adrenaline had fully drained out of her system.

Her earlier sharpness was gone, replaced by that loose, boneless weight that came when exhaustion finally won. "Okay," she muttered, words sticking together, "I think I’m... dying."

"You’re not dying," I said under my breath, tightening my grip around her waist. "You’re just dramatic."

"Same thing."

I was so focused on keeping her upright that I didn’t notice Michael move until he was suddenly right there—close enough that I could smell something clean and faintly sharp on him.

Not alcohol. Not smoke. Just... him. "I’ve got her," he said, reaching for Chiara’s other side.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I looked at him, I didn’t want him touching us and It must’ve shown clearly on my face because he stopped immediately. Hands lifting a fraction in quiet surrender.

"Okay," he said calmly, stepping back. No argument. No offense taken. That somehow unsettled me more.

We reached his car, a dark, unassuming thing parked just beyond the edge of the lights. Michael moved ahead of us, unlocking it with a soft click before opening the back door.

Chiara perked up instantly. "Luxury," she murmured approvingly, practically folding herself into the back seat.

I made sure her legs were in, her seatbelt fastened, her head resting against the window instead of lolling forward.

Michael closed the door gently, like he was aware of how loud everything felt to me right now. Then he turned and walked around to the front.

He opened the passenger door and waited. The interior light came on, spilling pale gold across the seat, the dashboard, his hands resting casually on the door frame.

An invitation. My stomach tightened. I stood there longer than necessary, fingers curled at my sides, staring at the open door like it might bite me.

Every instinct screamed don’t. Don’t sit beside him. Don’t trap yourself in a small moving space with a man you no longer seem to understand.

I could call Nonna. I could lie. I could deal with the questions. But the thought of her finding out where we’d been—of guards, lectures, control—made my chest constrict.

This was the fastest way home. The quietest.

Michael met my hesitation with patience, not pressure. "I won’t touch you," he said softly, as if reading the exact shape of my fear. "I just want to get you there safely."

Safely. The word landed heavier than it should have. I swallowed, stepped forward, and slid into the seat.

The door closed with a solid, final sound that echoed through my bones. The seatbelt clicked into place under my fingers, sharp and loud in the enclosed space.

Michael walked around the car and got in beside me. When he shut his door, the world narrowed instantly—just the two of us in the front, Chiara’s quiet breathing behind us, the low hum of the engine starting.

He didn’t look at me right away. Neither did I. The car pulled out slowly, tires crunching softly against gravel before hitting the road.

Streetlights passed in steady intervals, flashing across his face, then mine, like we were being briefly examined and then forgotten again.

I folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. This was fine, I told myself. I just had to get through the ride.

But as the city lights stretched ahead of us and Michael drove like he’d done this a hundred times before, one thought kept circling, persistent and unwelcome:

Getting into this car had been a choice. And choices—lately—had a way of changing everything.

"Soooo," Chiara’s voice cut through the quiet from the back seat, loud and entirely too cheerful. "What’s your name, handsome?"

I groaned quietly and leaned my forehead back against the headrest. Of course. Of course she’d choose now.

Michael glanced at the rearview mirror, then answered calmly, like this was the most normal question in the world. "Michael."

That was all it took. Chiara lurched forward, nearly throwing herself between the seats. "MICHAEL?" she shrieked.

The car swerved just slightly before Michael corrected it, grip tightening on the wheel.

"As in the Michael?" Chiara demanded, eyes wide, pointing dramatically at him. "The Michael who’s been blasting Katya’s phone non-stop for months?"

My body went completely still. "Chiara," I hissed, panic slicing through my voice as I shoved her back by the shoulder. "Sit. Back."

She collapsed against the seat with a giggle, but the damage was already done. The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Michael’s eyes flicked to me for half a second—quick, unreadable—before returning to the road. His jaw tightened just enough for me to notice.

I stared straight ahead, heat crawling up my neck. Of all the ways this ride could go wrong, this was near the top of the list.

"Ohhh," Chiara continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that absolutely did not stay quiet.

"If I’d known you were this handsome, Katya, I would’ve told you to answer the phone."

"Can you shut it," I snapped, finally turning to glare at her. "Please. Just—please."

She grinned lazily. "Wow. Touchy."

Michael cleared his throat, smoothly steering the conversation away from whatever disaster Chiara was trying to create. "Where am I taking you?"

"Uh—" I said automatically, reaching for my bag. Empty. My fingers froze, heart dropping. I checked again. Still nothing.

No phone. "Shit." I cursed under my breath.

Michael glanced over briefly. "Everything okay?"

"I—" I swallowed. "I left my phone in Chiara’s car." Which meant no GPS. No easy solution. No silent directions.

Great. I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. "It’s... not far," I said quickly.

"I can just....uh...direct you."

He nodded once. "Whenever you’re ready." I took a breath, then another, pointing ahead with stiff fingers.

"Okay. Um. Take this road straight. Then second left after the bakery. The one with the green shutters."

Michael followed without question, eyes forward, posture relaxed like this didn’t matter to him at all.

Which somehow made it worse. Everything was ten times bad as it is. "And then," I continued, voice tight, "you’ll see an old stone gate. Turn there. But don’t go all the way in. Just... stop outside."

He glanced at me again, softer this time. "Got it." Behind us, Chiara sighed dreamily. "Wow. Calm. Gentleman. Drives well. Katya, you really downgraded after him."

"CHIARA." She laughed, sinking back into the seat at last. "I’m just saying."

I pressed my lips together, staring out the window as familiar streets began to appear, my chest tightening with every passing light. This ride was supposed to be simple.

Instead, it felt like everything I’d been avoiding was catching up to me.

One turn at a time.