“Hey, what’s she saying?”
“She wonders why you’re dressed like that.”
I turn to her with a grimace. “Long story.”
“This is Signora Maria DeCata. She will take care of you. I must leave.” He throws up a hand in a greeting, hops in the car and disappears in a roaring cloud of dust before I can even answer.
“Vieni, vieni, Signorina!”
She waves for me to come with her and I follow, stepping into the surprisingly cool, semi-darkness of the house. Maria keeps talking, gesturing. I shake my head and gesture to my ears. I have no clue what she’s saying.
“English?” I ask.
She stops and frowns, holds up a hand. “Attesa.” Then she disappears out the door and leaves me alone.
I’m alone. Left alone. With an open door. Are they absolutely clueless? My heart speeds up. Maybe I can actually get away from here? I think of the mountains, the long, dusty road and the barren land. Not without shoes. Not without a car. I put the thought away for now and sink down on a chair by a sturdy, wooden kitchen table. Soon enough I hear women’s voices and Maria steps inside with a woman in tow who seems to be about my age. She grabs my shoulders and kisses both my cheeks.
“I’m Alessandra. Welcome to Bietini.”
I must look like a question mark.
“Our village. We have been told to take care of you. You can come with me.” She looks me over. “Do you have a bag?”
I shake my head as I stand. “I’m so happy that someone speaks English!”
Alessandra laughs. “I am the only one, I think. No bag. Hmm. You need clothes. And shoes.”
I nod eagerly and she waves for me to come. “Grazie, Maria,” she says and kisses the old woman on the cheek.
The stone paving is hot and it permeates through my socks, burning the soles of my feet. Sweat breaks out again and I tear off the shirt, leaving me with only two layers of clothes on my upper body instead of three. I feel like I’ll pass out any moment. My head spins and maybe I shouldn’t have had that last Vodka. My throat is parched. I’m about to ask her how far we’re going when we make a sharp turn into a little alley and she pushes open a door to a two-story building.
“We have arranged a room for you, Chloe. I’ll find you something to wear. Are you hungry?”
“No, but I’m thirsty. It’s hot!”
“Yes, we have winds from the Sahara.”
“Sahara? Africa?”
Alessandra laughs. “Yes. It’s close. I’ll be back soon. Your room is upstairs to the right. The other door is the bathroom. You can’t miss it. There are bottles of water in the kitchen. Make yourself at home.”
Africa? It hasn’t really struck me until now where I am.
I make a quick survey of the house and find a rustic kitchen with a counter full of vegetables and several plastic bottles of water, like she said. I drink eagerly and move on to a small living room with a couch, an armchair, a couple of tables with crocheted tablecloths, and a TV. On the far side of the room is a door that leads to a bedroom. Upstairs I find my designated room, and the only bathroom in the house. I can’t help wondering if I have been given the best bedroom. The walls are painted white. There is a fairly large, four-poster bed that must have been built in place, a wooden closet, an armchair and a little side table. There are no decorations other than a tiny painting of Mary and Jesus, hanging on the wall above the top of the bed. Sheer, white curtains cover the window that has a view of a backyard and the mountains. It’s dead quiet. I wonder how many houses there are here, how many people, and where everybody is.
A slam of a door from downstairs makes me jerk. I meet Alessandra halfway down the stairs. She has her arms full of clothes.
“I’ve found a few dresses I think should fit. And shoes.” She winks.
“Thank you! I don’t know how I’m ever—”
“Oh, that’s not an issue, Signorina. We are happy to help Signore Salvatore.”
I freeze when I hear his name, spoken so casually out of the mouth of this girl, showing none of the fear everyone back home seems to harbor.
“How… do you know him?”
“My grandmother was a cousin to his father. I think.” She frowns, and then laughs. “We stick together. Now, go change. I’ll make us some soup. Do you like basil?”
I nod. I don’t even know what I nod to, too overwhelmed to think straight.
I spread out three flowery, knee-long dresses on the bed and drop the pair of leather sandals on the floor. I’m so excited that I almost bounce when I shed the grimy clothes. Salvatore’s clothes, I realize as his scent wafts up.
“Hey,” I shout down the stairs, “can I take a shower?”
“Of course,” she shouts back. “The towels are fresh.”
The bathroom is tiny, but cute, the basin and toilet painted with little pink flowers, a pink rug on the floor.
Revived after a quick, cool shower, I pull a dress over my head, and realize to my horror that I have no underwear. Fuck. I follow a mouthwatering scent downstairs and find Alessandra by the stove.
“Feel better? You’re very pretty, Chloe. You’ll be like a beacon among us with your blonde hair. I can see why he would choose you.” She pinches a strand of my still-damp hair. “Set the plates, please. We can eat shortly.”
Choose me? I scoff inwardly as I look at the shelves and take down two deep plates.
“Are there… I don’t have any underwear.” My cheeks heat up.
She stops and turns. “I’ll fix that. I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me. Let’s eat while it’s warm and I’ll help you after.”
Alessandra gestures for me to sit, then she scoops up tomato soup in our plates and breaks a piece of bread, handing it to me before she breaks another piece for herself.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” She laughs. “Eat. You need it. You can do the dishes after. I’m not used to living with someone. I’m definitely going to take advantage of that.”
“Oh please, put me to use. I don’t want to be a burden.”
The soup is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. It’s salty, spicy, everything my body needed. The calm atmosphere, the silence, the sparsely furnished house is everything my soul needed.
“How many people live here? What do you all do?”
“We’re about forty. Mostly farm work. I teach.”
“Oh?” I perk up. My kind of person! “What do you teach?”
“Everything,” she says. “I’m the teacher.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks. Of course. “How many kids? What ages are they?”
“Seven. Between five and fifteen, then they have to go to the city.”
“I’ve worked with children too.” My heart clenches at how distant it seems now. I left that life when I left Kerry in Chicago. And then everything was taken from me. Still, here I am, on a white-hot island in the Mediterranean Sea, eating soup. Life is suddenly turned on its head again, and for once it’s not awful.
“What did you do?”
“I… was an accountant,” I say, hearing how stupid it sounds.
Alessandra frowns and I explain about the community center for autistic children.
“Sounds like you loved it.”
“I did,” I say and look out the window, averting my gaze. The one who ruined it all is her relative. I have to remember where I am.
“Maybe you want to come with? I’d be happy to have someone with me. You can help with English!”
I perk up. “Can I? I’d love that!”
That night we have dinner with one of the families in the village. There are women of all ages, children, and older men. I don’t see any men between their twenties and sixties. I’m about to ask Alessandra about this mystery when someone calls my name and holds out a cell phone.
“It’s for you,” says Alessandra.
My heart shoots up to my throat. There can be only one. I sneak into the living room and close the door.
“Chloe,” I
say on an exhale.
“How are you finding your new accommodations?” says a smooth, well-modulated, very well-known voice. It’s almost a relief to hear him. At least it’s something familiar.
“It’s… different.”
“Are you being a good girl?”
I swallow as heat shoots through me. I don’t even think he means it that way, but his deep baritone makes it sound so erotic that I squirm. “Was I ever anything else?”
Salvatore laughs. “I can think of a number of occasions.”
“Hardly my fault,” I mutter. “Why am I here?”
“Would you rather be with me? That’s a nice change of tune.”
“That’s not what I said.” Also, I don’t even know what I mean myself.
“That’s what I hear.”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“So cocky now that I can’t spank you.”
“Beat me, you mean.”
“Or ravage your pussy until you scream.”
I gasp and clench my thighs, stifling a moan that threatens to escape.
“So tell me, Chloe. Are you still bored?”
I scoff.
He gives out a short laugh. We both know the answer to that. I’m definitely not bored today.
Salvatore clears his throat. “On a more serious note. You’re with relatives of mine. You’re to treat them with the utmost respect at all times.”
“Did you come from here?”
“Ah, no. I was born in Chicago. My parents came from the village. These people are brothers, sisters, cousins, you name it, of my parents.”
“Where are all the men?”
“Working.”
“What? Where? Oh wait—”
“Yes. They’re in the business.”
“But you wrote—”
“The people you see around you tonight don’t know the details of my work. And it stays that way. You are under no circumstances allowed to talk about me. I have instructed them to care for you, that you are important to me, and that you’ll be staying a while.”
My mouth goes dry. “Am I?”
“Staying?”
“Important.”
Salvatore doesn’t answer immediately. I hear him breathe. “I take care of my property. Buona notte, Chloe. Behave. I’ll know if you don’t.”
“Salvatore!”
“Yes,” he says, suddenly sounding eternally tired.
“Why did you send me here?”
“I have been attacked. We’re going to war. No one around me is safe. You know this better than most, which I am sorry for. I can’t have any distractions. Having you raped is fucking distracting. Having Ivan in the ICU is fucking distracting.”
“David!” I gasp.
“My son has left the country with his mother and extended family. Thank you for thinking about him. I appreciate that. I’ll send for you when I can. I expect to find you where you were left off. Now, good night.”
He disconnects.
My brothers? I want to scream. What about them? Their time was up today. Did you hurt them? But the line is dead and the number didn’t display. I can’t call back.
Property? A little hope sparked in me when he called, at the mirth in his voice, sounding almost like a man I could like. Now my heart sinks. Property! That’s all I am to him. A piece of meat. I might as well be a comfy couch.
I return to the main room and hand back the phone. The laughs sound hollow, as if I’m in a tin can. It doesn’t matter anymore that I don’t understand the conversation. I wouldn’t have been able to follow it anyway.
That night I dream of violence, of terror, and it’s not Christian anymore, or Salvatore, who hurts me. When I wake, sweaty, my heart nearly beating its way out of my chest, I wish I’d had his strong arms around me again, rocking me safe. I hug a pillow tight and try to sleep, but my brain won’t let the images go. I’m not sad or scared. I don’t feel ashamed. I wish I could have shot my attackers again and again. I’m so grateful for Salvatore’s trust when he handed me the gun. I needed it so badly.
Chapter 24
Luciano
Hearing her constant distrust irks me more than I’m comfortable with. I have other matters at hand, other things to worry about. She isn’t fucking happy with anything I do. She’s not even happy being away from me, for fuck’s sake. Bietini is nothing more than a few houses thrown together in the mountains, but life there is quiet and peaceful.
What the fuck will it take to make her less hostile? She will need to drop her attitude. It’s driving me fucking crazy.
Then I remember her brothers, and my resolve to release them. Was it only yesterday? Time gets warped when it feels as if more happens in a day than what usually happens in a week. I tap the number to Dustin as I move through the house.
“Sir,” shouts a servant who comes dashing as he sees me. Dustin answers at the same time.
“Hold on, Dust. Yes?” I turn to the man.
He wrings his hands. There are beads of sweat on his forehead. “What do we do with your room, sir?”
My bedroom isn’t salvageable. I don’t want anything from in there. “Tear it all out. Strip it bare. Burn everything. Got it?”
I leave the twitchy man behind and stride toward the hallway. “Where are you, Dust?”
“I’m in the club room.”
“Get your ass to my garage. Call up Charlie and Chad Bourne. Make sure they’re available. We’re going to have a little chat with the boys.”
“Will do. Any news on Ivan, sir?”
“Same,” I mutter. “Stable, they say.”
Dustin is silent for a few heartbeats. I know what he thinks. We all share the same concern. “It’s all so fucked up,” he finally says. If they can take him, they can take anyone.”
“That’s not happening,” I growl. “Eric has taken a squad and left for Moscow. We’ll take the fight to them. Hit them where it hurts. Matteo is working on stripping their accounts. When I’m done with them, they’ll be poor and dead. Now get to—”
“On it, sir. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
The ride downtown is silent. I sit in the back with my laptop and try to catch up with the intel Matteo keeps sending me. He’s chasing down this Russian mobster clan’s assets all over the world and is planning a strike that, when it happens, will wipe out any fucking Rubel, Dollar, Pound, Yen, or Euro they’ve got within a few minutes and transfer it to an untraceable account of mine. It’ll take some days to get it set up and I’m antsy for it to happen. My clubs are still closed and I’m losing billions. I know this is what they wanted, shooting up the gambling club, make me suffer. What they don’t know is how fucking many gangsters I can mobilize from the corners of the world. Right now people are gathering everywhere the Russians have a stronghold, Moscow obviously, a couple of places in Ukraine, London, and San Francisco. We’ll strike when all their alarm systems scream that they’ve lost their assets, when everyone throws themselves over their phones and their computers. I’ll bathe in their blood, laughing. I’ll avenge Ivan, Chloe, my staff in the club and in my house. No one touches what’s mine.
Chad and Charlie are two bright kids in their younger twenties. They’re clearly Chloe’s brothers, tall and blond with blue eyes and sharp features. Both have this American college kid, captain of the baseball team look going for them. Both of them screwed that possibility up royally. I’ve been thinking of putting them through school. Depending on how loyal they’ll prove to be, I can definitely have more use for them in the future and they have the potential to be more than muscle.
They’ve spent six months here, out of jail, free to move around, and always ready to do my bidding. They know that if they fuck up, I’d kill their sister.
Which of course I don’t plan to do, but they don’t know that.
Chad opens. Charlie sits on the couch in front of a PlayStation. He darts up as he sees me. “Mr. Salvatore.”
“Sit,” I say and nod for Dustin to join us. I have
to shove off a pile of clothes to find some space and scrunch my nose. They live in a pigsty. I like order. Tenting my hands, I look between them. “Gentlemen, I have a proposal for you, and you better listen good.”
They glance at each other, and then fixate on me. If they’re worried, they don’t show it. I like it.
“Your sister Chloe, or Christine if you prefer, has been relocated. She’s out of the country. She was attacked and is now under my protection. My whole organization is under attack. I’m going to offer you a chance for her to earn her freedom, for you to clear your debt to me.”
Charlie frowns and looks between Dustin and me, then at his brother who nods. “Go on,” he says. “We’re all ears. Who attacked Christine? How is she? What happened?”
“She’s all right. You can ask her yourself. I’ll provide you with a number. You are not to ask where she is, or about her relationship with me. This is for her own security. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Salvatore. No problem. What is it you want us to do?”
“Do you know your way around a gun?”
Chad scoffs and Charlie gives out a short laugh.
“Excellent,” I say. “We’ll be shooting up some people who are messing with my business.”
“Them the ones who attacked our sister?” Chad leans forward, clenching his jaw.
“The same fucking ones.”
“Count us in,” says Charlie. “We owe you one for getting us out. We should punch your fucking face for threatening our sis, though.”
Dustin shoots up, but I put a hand on his arm and have him sit again. I did a lot more to his sister than threaten her. I think it, but I doubt it’d land well if I say it. Instead I lift an eyebrow.
“Good boy. Hold onto that anger. You’re gonna have good use for it. Give me your phone.” I hold out my hand until Charlie slaps his phone in my palm, holding my gaze with his. I smirk and tap in the number where they can reach Chloe, then I drop the phone on the table. “Someone will pick you up tomorrow, ten a.m. Be ready. We’ll provide you with gear and you’ll be assigned to a team.”
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