Greed (A Sinful Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  Antonio’s been away for a week, and other than my morning text, we’ve had no contact. We’re supposed to have dinner tomorrow, but I won’t be there. Because today is the day.

  I pray.

  I’m ready. More than ready. But I was ready last Friday too. The night before, I packed a small backpack with a toothbrush, deodorant, a change of underwear and socks, a paring knife from the kitchen, a pair of scissors, a hand towel, and my wallet.

  But it rained all day, and no one went outside at lunch or during breaks. Both Carlos and John had their truck beds locked down tight the entire day. When they pulled out after work, I slid onto my bedroom floor, with my back against the bed frame and my knees pulled to my chest, and sobbed.

  I was so close, so close, to reuniting with Isabel and Valentina, but because of the damn weather, my dream was out of reach for at least a full week. Yes, I could have climbed into the back of Carlos’s truck in the interim, but stowing away in John’s truck will get me to the city, where I need to go.

  Waiting an entire week was painful, but it allowed me to study the comings and goings of the outdoor area for a bit longer. Clear patterns emerged as I observed day after day.

  Carlos and John unlock their vehicles and open the tailgates at the midmorning coffee break. The covers are only ever pulled back far enough to expose about a third of the truck beds. After the break, the tailgate gets put up, and the covers are adjusted to protect the entire bed.

  The trucks are left unlocked, and whoever gets to lunch first opens the tailgate and retracts the covers partway. This is a recurring pattern. Unless it rains, little varies day to day with regard to that area and the people who come and go during breaks. After observing for more than a week, I don’t anticipate any surprises.

  The other things that I can count on are that Victor prepares dinner on the other side of the house beginning midafternoon, at the latest, and the majority of the staff complete their duties on the upper floors by the afternoon break.

  My best chance to climb into John’s truck, unseen, is between three o’clock and four thirty.

  It’s 3:10, now. I’m meeting Paula at the side door in five minutes for a walk. Except for the day it rained, we’ve been taking a daily walk. I’ve learned a lot about her, and I’m sorry that we won’t have the opportunity to become close. She’s somewhat anxious, but she has a good heart. She’s a lot like Isabel, except much younger.

  After a quick glance around the room, I grab the backpack that I always take with me on these walks and shut the suite door for the last time. I hope.

  On my way downstairs, I pause at the second-floor landing and peek out the window. No one is outside. My stomach does a somersault or two before I tear myself from the glass.

  Paula’s waiting when I get to the bottom of the stairs. I’d love to say goodbye to Victor, but that’s impossible. This morning at breakfast I told him how much I appreciate everything he’s done to make me comfortable. I was careful not to raise his suspicions. He’s an angel, but his loyalty is to Antonio, not to me.

  “Are you ready?” I ask, flashing Paula a warm smile.

  “I’m ready,” she chirps. “It’s a beautiful day.” She hands me a water bottle, which I stuff into the backpack. If she notices that the pack is fuller today, she doesn’t mention it.

  The door shuts behind us with a louder-than-normal thud. At least it seems that way to me.

  When we get to the break area, no one is there. Not a soul.

  My heart rate ticks up.

  Now, Daniela.

  I take a big breath. “Paula, I’m so sorry to do this to you. I meant to mention it earlier. I was so hot last night. I don’t know if it was the room, or if I had a fever.”

  “Are you feeling better now?” she asks with some concern, making me feel like a complete heel.

  I touch her arm. “Totally better. But my sheets were drenched with sweat. I would have changed them myself, except I don’t know where you keep the laundered linen. Do you think you could go up and change them?”

  “Now?” she asks, her brow furrowed.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I think it would be a good idea if you did it now, so that you’re finished with all your work by the end of the day.”

  “I can stay later if you need me.”

  She’s such a good soul, who doesn’t deserve to be lied to, but it’s for her protection as well as mine. The less she knows, the better for us both.

  “Absolutely not. As I told you—you work hard, and I want you to have the weekend off. Victor gave his blessing. I’ll be okay out here. I won’t walk too far without you.”

  “Of course.” She nods.

  Paula’s been a bright light in this ordeal. I want to hug her, but if I do, I’ll tip my hand. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a wonderful weekend.”

  “Thank you. See you Monday,” she calls over her shoulder, walking toward the house.

  I stand for a minute, quelling the rising panic.

  Have I missed anything? Have I crossed every t and dotted every i? Only hindsight will tell if I was careless.

  Go, Daniela, go. Now.

  Without wasting another second, I climb into the truck bed and slip under the retractable hood. I creep on my belly until I can’t go any farther. I hope it’s late enough that no one comes out and decides to open the cover all the way. I haven’t seen it happen yet, but there’s a first time for everything.

  If one of the staff finds me, I’ve prepared a ridiculous story about playing a trick on Paula, hiding and then jumping out when she least expects it. Surprise!

  That story would never fly with Antonio, not a chance, but no one on the staff would ever question me, even if they doubted the veracity. Except the guards—they would question me.

  Paula assured me that unless they have any reason to be suspicious, the guards never check staff vehicles on the way out, only on the way in. They’ll definitely contact Cristiano or Lucas, or maybe even Antonio himself, if they find me hiding in the back of a truck. I shudder at the prospect before shoving it away. I can’t let my fears get the best of me now.

  I lie on my side and rest my head on the backpack, with my back flush against the cab, trying to make myself as small as possible. I try not to think about all the things that could still go wrong before I’m off the property.

  And I pray.

  43

  Antonio

  I’m in my office at Huntsman Lodge with my assistant, Cecelia, reviewing next week’s schedule when Lucas’s name pops up on my phone. We just spoke fifteen minutes ago. Lucas isn’t a big talker, by any measure. There’s some goddamn problem.

  “Give me a second,” I tell Cecelia, picking up the call. “Yeah.”

  “Daniela was seen getting into the back of a truck in the break area on the side of the house.”

  What the hell? I lean back in the chair, pressing my tight shoulders into the firm leather. “Whose truck?”

  “Amos Correia’s kid, John. He does landscaping, and a few odds and ends around the property.”

  “Hold on.”

  I turn to Cecelia. “I need to take this call. Then we’ll get through everything you have for me, if it takes all night.” Cecelia nods and gets up.

  I was gone for a week, and she’s been trying to pin me down all day about my damn schedule. I’m sure she’s annoyed at the interruption. I don’t pay her to be annoyed, but I keep the thought to myself, because she’s highly skilled, and more important, she’s trustworthy.

  “Any idea where she might be going?” I ask when the office door clicks shut.

  “John stays with his parents during the week, but he has an apartment in the city that he goes to on the weekend. Porto would be my best guess.”

  That’s where I’d go first if I was on the run. “How long has she been in the truck?”

  “Less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Did she have help?”

  “Cristiano’s on it.”

  “Is Correia’s kid inv
olved?” John better make his peace with God if he’s helping her escape—from me.

  “Also unclear. We’re sending a guard to pick him up.”

  The more people who know, the bigger the problem becomes. Not to mention it’s a direct assault on my authority.

  “Don’t pick him up. And tell Cristiano not to bother interrogating anyone.”

  “What do you want us to do?” he asks, as though he’s confused by my instructions.

  “I’ll be down in ten minutes. Hold tight until then. But let her go.”

  “That’s it? Just let her go?”

  “That’s it. Not one fucking thing more.”

  I end the call and toss my phone on the blotter, rubbing my temples to ward off the throbbing in my head. I have a business to run and more responsibilities than I care to have. I don’t have time for this kind of distraction. That’s what she’s been, a huge distraction. I’m sick and tired of her bullshit.

  I’ve had more than enough.

  I get that she’s still adjusting to a new life with limited freedom, but I wasn’t the one who went to her father. He came to me.

  She feels her golden wings have been clipped? Too fucking bad.

  The more I think about it, the more pissed off I am. I’m not an angel, but I’ve made her surroundings as comfortable as possible, and I’ve been willing to bend on things like phone calls to her damn maid in the US, and walks on the property without a guard. I should have thrown her in one of the empty towers and let her sleep on the cold floor without any outside communication until the wedding. Then she couldn’t have pulled this crap. Although, even then, she probably would have found a way. I don’t put anything past her.

  You want to go back to the US, Daniela? Back to cleaning toilets? Go for it. I’m done playing games.

  I activate the intercom at Cecelia’s station. “I’m off the phone. You have exactly five minutes to review any pressing business with me.”

  44

  Daniela

  It’s almost 8:15, well after sunset.

  The truck’s been parked for more than two hours. Shortly after the engine was turned off, someone got out of the cab, slammed the door shut, and engaged the lock.

  After about thirty minutes of silence, I used the credit card light from my wallet to search for the safety latch that will unlock the retractable cover. I think I found it, but I’m trying not to get too excited. I could be mistaken, and even if I’m right, it might not work.

  If it fails, I’ll attempt to cut my way through the cover. Although I might not be successful. Either way, I’ll have to wait for the middle of the night to try something so risky.

  Waiting until dark is hard. But necessary. If John, or anyone else, sees me climb out of the truck, there will be less of a chance they’ll recognize me if it’s dark out.

  Fifteen more minutes should do the trick.

  While I wait, I review the plan again. Buy a phone, call Isabel, sell the locket, get to the docks, and find a freighter that will take you—anywhere. Call Isabel, again, with the final plan.

  It seems so simple, but the potential for disaster looms until I’m on that ship heading out of Portugal.

  I glance at my watch, like I’ve been doing every five minutes since the truck pulled out of Antonio’s driveway.

  Eight twenty-nine.

  I’m nauseous, as I crawl along the truck bed to the safety lock. Before I engage the lever, I pull out the credit card light one more time to read the directions posted near the lock. No reason to make a mistake now.

  I follow the illustrations precisely until I hear a small pop.

  Thank you, God. Thank you.

  I creep along toward the tailgate, dragging my knapsack alongside me. As I stick my hand out of the truck to unlatch the gate, I freeze. What if it’s alarmed? Don’t risk it.

  I yank at the cover from inside, pulling as hard as I can, but it doesn’t open more than six inches. Not enough for me to squeeze through. After a few more minutes, I get on my knees, still scrunched down, and use my body to create momentum as I push the damn thing open. There’s no way I’m going to get trapped here. It’s not going to end like this. But in my heart, it feels like a real possibility.

  After several tries, it opens enough for me to slither through. The sense of relief is palpable as I climb over the tailgate. I move quickly but carefully. The last thing I need is an alarm to blare.

  As soon as my feet touch the ground, I take off without stopping to get my bearings. I just run. And I run. And I run—until I’m wheezing and can’t run anymore.

  I slip into a small alley, doubled over. After a minute, I walk around in tight circles, hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath.

  While gasping for air, I run through the list of things that need to be accomplished before I reach the docks.

  You’ve already done the hard part.

  After a few sips of water, I walk for about twenty minutes through the oldest part of the city until I come to a neighborhood market where I might be able to purchase a cheap phone.

  The market is almost empty, although this is a touristy part of town, and I’m not too worried about being recognized.

  I find the prepaid phones immediately. But because I need international calling, they’re not cheap.

  When I get to the register, it occurs to me that I don’t have enough euros to buy the phone, and I can’t use my bank card. Although, why not? It’s an American bank, and by the time Antonio can track the purchase, I’ll be long gone.

  “Do you know where there might be a pawn shop in the area? Somewhere that buys jewelry?” I ask, handing the card to the young clerk.

  She shrugs. “I’ve seen them around. But I can’t remember where.”

  “What are you selling?” a gruff male voice asks from behind me.

  45

  Daniela

  I turn my head to get a look at the stranger. He’s about forty and doesn’t look like someone I want to share my personal business with. “Not selling anything today. Just checking prices.”

  He nods, eyeing the gold chain around my neck—the one that holds my mother’s locket. “There’s a high-end pawn shop a mile down the road. Take a right on Fonte Taurina Street. You’ll see it as soon as you turn the corner.”

  “Thank you,” I say, finishing my purchase.

  “I can give you a ride.”

  The clerk hands me a receipt with a concerned look. She needn’t worry—there’s no way I’m taking him up on the offer.

  “That’s very kind, but I can use the walk.”

  “The shop will likely be closed by the time you get there, if you walk.”

  Then I’ll find another one. I’m not getting in a car with this guy. Something about him makes me uneasy.

  “That’s okay. It’s not that important.”

  I don’t spare him another glance as I hurry out of the store and up the street.

  If you expect to find the shop open, you have to run, Daniela. I’m tired and don’t know if I can run anymore. But I do, although it’s more of a jog than a sprint.

  I don’t stop to call Isabel, because then I’ll never make it.

  It’s a good thing that I’m wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Otherwise, people might be alarmed at a woman running down the road. This isn’t the US, where it’s not unusual to see joggers on the sidewalk at all hours of the day and night.

  Once or twice I glance over my shoulder to see if the man from the market followed me. I don’t see him, and there are too many people on the street for him to try something. The amount of pedestrian traffic is a double-edged sword as I enter a more residential part of the city. While it makes me feel safer in some regards, there’s also more of a chance I’ll be recognized.

  When I get to Fonte Taurina, I turn the corner, and the shop is there, on the right, like the man said. But it doesn’t look open. Shit.

  I walk up to the door, looking over my shoulder as I ring the bell. I wouldn’t be all that shocked to see Antonio s
talking toward me. Stop, Daniela. Don’t feed the anxiety.

  “Good evening,” a pleasant woman’s voice says through an intercom.

  “Good evening. I have an antique locket that I’d like to show you.”

  “You need an appointment.”

  An appointment? Oh God. “My mother is dying. She’s in the US. I need to get there tonight, and I don’t have the money to purchase a last-minute plane ticket.” I’ve become quite the liar. It’s not something I like about myself, but it’s a necessary evil. “Please,” I beg.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you tonight. If you’d like to make an appointment for ten o’clock tomorrow morning, maybe I can help you then.”

  Make the appointment, just in case you can’t find another open shop.

  “If you don’t have anything earlier, ten o’clock will be fine.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Danielle DeRosa.” It’s the name that Leo set me up with before I left Porto, and it’s on my ID.

  I cross the street and duck into an alcove in front of a shuttered boutique to call Isabel. My fingers tremble as I input her number.

  You need to keep it together for her sake, and Valentina’s.

  “Hello,” she says. My heart jumps at her voice. This is going to happen. Soon you’ll be with them. Stay calm.

  “It’s Daniela.”

  “Is everything okay? You don’t sound okay.”

  “I’m fine. Isabel, please listen carefully. I don’t have much time. Go to the bank and withdraw all the money in the account.” Wait. I can withdraw cash here too. Maybe I won’t need to sell the locket. My heart clenches at the prospect of being able to keep it—at least for a while longer.

  “I’m sorry. Not all the money. Leave seven hundred and fifty dollars in the account.” Is that enough? From my research, it should be more than enough to get me out of the country.

  “Take my mother’s diamond ring to the pawn shop and get as much as you can for it. Then come back and gather all our important papers, and pack a few things for you and Valentina.” Next comes the hard part. “Then take the bus to Boston and check in at the Hampton Inn near the airport. You’ll need to take the subway there.”