by Kathryn Shay
“Yeah,” his buddy responded. “My mother made me come. Who wants to have a party with a girl?”
“They’re both dorks.”
Connor walked around the corner. The boys blushed. “Okay, I might be a dork. But Whitney isn’t. Take it back.”
“She is. She thinks she’s a boy. She can’t do shit.”
Connor laughed, thinking he’d win this one. “Yeah, she beat you in the races on Festival Day, Bobby. Give her a break.”
At the mention of his failures, Bobby stalked to Connor, and pushed him back. Connor stumbled but stayed upright. “Who’s gonna make me, dorkface?”
“Not me. I don’t fight.”
“You’re a chicken, too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Bobby pushed again, and this time Connor fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of him.
Suddenly, someone flew around the side of the garage. He saw Whitney, dressed in her pretty pink clothes that Mama insisted she wear, tackle Bobby. Connor got up to help her.
She straddled Bobby and said, “Tell Connor you’re sorry or I’ll bash your face in.”
“Whitney, don’t. Not at our birthday party.”
She raised her fist.
Someone else came into view, grabbed that fist and picked her up by the armpits. His brother Gabe. “Stop this, now.”
“She started it,” Bobby said, getting up.
“No she didn’t. You were pushing me around.”
“Need a girl to...”
He stopped when Gabe cut him off. “Bobby, Tommy, get in my car.”
“Why?”
“You’re going home.” He turned to Connor and Whitney. “You two go in the house and get cleaned up. It’s almost time for cake.”
When they left, Connor turned to Whitney. She looked at him soulfully. “I had to do it, Connor. He was gonna hurt you.”
“I hate fights.”
“Sorry if I ruined the party.”
“Nah, you didn’t.” He held out his hand and they walked around to the side door which led to the bathroom downstairs, where no one could see them. As they cleaned up, Connor laughed. “Boy did he go down hard!”
And Whitney smiled. That was all he wanted...
On the roof now, he was warmed by the recollection. It softened him toward her enough to call her. Unfortunately, he’d have to be stern with her, which didn’t come easy.
She answered immediately, as she was off work for the weekend. “Hey, buddy. How are you?”
“Pissed off.”
“At who?”
“Take a wild guess.”
Since they rarely exchanged an angry word between them, she went silent. For a long time.
“Did you hear me, Whitney Anne?”
“Um, yeah. Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter. You are to come home and get married.”
“Con, no.” Because her voice quavered, he gentled his tone. “Please, Whitney, don’t do this to Mama and Pa. When Nick and Gabe went off and got married without them present, it broke their hearts.” Dec had married at home, but Nick and Gabe had eloped.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Whit, we’ve never been jealous of one another. I’ll be happy when you marry Max.”
“Not while you’re still mourning the loss of Calla.”
“No!” So much for a gentle tone. “I won’t have her ruin any more of my life.”
“So you are suffering.”
“This conversation isn’t about that.”
“Talk to me.”
“No, you listen. This wedding is going to be in Lakeville. It can be any kind, small, large, hell, in the backyard if you want. But we will be there. This is a hard line.”
“Shit, Connor. We haven’t pulled that promise out in ages.”
They’d agreed when they were young that they would let each other live his or her own life, but if one of them ever drew a hard line, the other listened. So far, they never abused the vow.
“I am pulling it out. And I’m going to hang up now so you can make plans.”
“Con...”
“A hard line, Whitney. I love you, but I mean it.”
And he disconnected.
Still, he stayed where he was, trying to get himself back under control. Gone was the calm his childhood memories had brought. Any kind of conflict was hard for him, but with Whitney bad feelings were almost intolerable. Just when he felt as if he could drive home, his phone rang again. He’d ignore the call if it was from her.
It wasn’t. The number had a D.C. area code, but wasn’t any of his family’s. There was one other person who was there... something made him click on. “Dr. Marino,” he said curtly.
“Connor Marino?” He didn’t recognize the voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Gabriella Gentileschi. Calla’s sister.” She pronounced it with the hard T in the middle.
He knew all six of Calla’s siblings by their beautiful names and could even picture this one from Calla’s description. Instead of inheriting the dark sultry features and coloring of the rest of them, Gabriella was blond and blue-eyed like some Southern Italians. “I know who you are. Why are you calling me?” A streak of terror went through him. “Oh, God, has something happened to Calla?”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing’s happened to her yet. But she thought she might have been followed today. She won’t take my advice about seeking whatever kind of assistance might be available in your country. You have to come down here and help me.”
“No.”
“Shit. I thought you were man enough to do that. I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry she’s suffering over someone who’s not worth it.”
Chapter 2
* * *
The door opened and Gabriella stood before him. She was almost as beautiful as Calla. She wore her hair short and sassy and her eyes were a startling azure blue. For a moment she showed surprise, but when she recognized him, her expression hardened.
Hands plopped on his hips, Connor said, “I am not a coward. I am man enough to put our problems aside to help Calla.”
A sassy arch of her female brow. “That remains to be seen.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
She gave him a haughty once-over. “Begrudgingly, from the expression on your face.”
“Let me in and get Calla.”
“Not unless you promise to be kind to her.”
He recoiled physically at the implication he might not be. “I would never mistreat her.”
She gave him her back and disappeared into another room, so he stepped inside and closed the door. In minutes, she was back with Calla. His whole body stilled. Though she’d lost weight since he’d seen her eight weeks ago and lines marred the beauty of her skin, his reaction to her was visceral. His entire body ached to touch her, hold her. This was the only woman he’d ever loved.
Calla stopped abruptly when she saw him. “Dio mio, Connor what are you doing here?”
“Gabriella called me.”
Her eyes moistened. Calla was a passionate woman and her feelings had always been easy to read on her face. He used to love that about her. Now, because her sadness softened him, he didn’t want to see it.
But he was helpless before her.
When her lips trembled, Connor couldn’t take it any longer. He closed the distance between them and tugged her into his arms. She went willingly and clutched his jacket. The feeling of her body next to him again made his eyes cloud. “Don’t cry. I came because your sister said you might be in trouble. I want to help.”
After a minute, she moved back and scrubbed her face. “I don’t want what isn’t good for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seeing me hurts you. I won’t be the cause of your pain any longer by dragging you into this nightmare.”
He whispered tenderly, “It doesn’t matter. Not seeing you hurts, too. Let me he
lp keep you safe.”
“I have to keep myself safe.”
Since he knew she wasn’t doing it, he crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “What have you done, then?”
“We looked up the requirements for requesting asylum online. I don’t think any of that information applies to me.”
“Did you consult an attorney?”
She shook her head.
“Then let’s sit and talk.”
Standing a few feet back, Gabriella straightened from where she was leaning against the jamb. “I want to be in on this.”
“Fine by me.” Connor shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, then sat.
Calla and Gabriella dropped down on the couch facing him. Close. It pricked at him when her sister took her hand. Instinctively Connor wanted to be the one to offer her comfort. But those days were gone, and best he remind himself of that. Nevertheless, he’d see what he could do in other ways.
Gabriella surprised him by starting. “She didn’t tell you the whole story at the conference.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
Calla leaned forward. “Brie, I can speak for myself.” She focused on Connor. “Because I knew the truth would hurt you more, but probably wouldn’t change your mind.”
“Calla, what else happened to you?”
“The abuse was more than one time.”
Again, his throat clogged at the notion of someone hurting this lovely woman. “Why didn’t you tell your father everything?”
“I did.”
His hands fisted. “How many times did that bastard hit you?”
“At least once a month. Sometimes weekly.”
“That’s an outrage.”
She closed her eyes.
“What else?”
“The sex...it wasn’t always consensual.”
“He raped you?”
“It wasn’t rape in my country. An old law that still exists in the constitution says women are subject to their husbands. That could be interpreted to mean women don’t have any choice in sex.” She glanced at Gabriella. “It’s my fault. I could have negotiated a prenuptial deal like my mother did.”
“Mamá had a prenup with Papá?”
“Yes. And they expected their daughters to get one from their prospective spouses. It precludes all these things.”
“And you didn’t insist on it from Lorenzo?” her sister asked.
“I tried. He refused.”
“Why did you marry him without it?” Connor demanded.
She turned her head away.
Connor said, “Because of me, right? Because you broke it off with me so all this pain couldn’t have been for nothing.”
“That, and my judgment was clouded. I suffered from your loss, too, Connor, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
His heart beat at a clip. He got up and went to kneel in front of her. Gabriella moved down the couch. “I’m so sorry this happened to you routinely. How did you tolerate it so long?”
Her eyes got bleak. “Because I gave you up for the marriage and I couldn’t hurt you again by failing at it.”
Gabriella put in bitterly, “Sometimes, when you’re in Casarina, you fall into their ways. You start believing that crap about laws, and customs, and the sanity of them.”
Connor met Calla’s forehead with his. He’d help her out of this, but the new information didn’t mean he and Calla could be together. He could never take the risk that she’d go back again. And she only knew part of the story why that was impossible.
o0o
When the front doorbell rang, Whitney crossed to it hurriedly. Her cousin had called to say he was in D.C. and asked if he could come over. He emphasized the importance of seeing her and her fiancé, Max, so she worried as she whipped open the door. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”
“Not necessarily.” His eyes were grim, like they got when he lost a patient. “But I’m hoping you can help.”
When she stepped aside to let him in, he moved to the right and revealed his company.
“Oh, my, God. Are you Calla?”
The woman held her head high, like the royalty she was. “Yes.”
“Come on in, both of you.”
Max had come up behind Whitney and put his hands on her shoulders. This was a big deal, and he knew it. The two visitors walked into the foyer.
“Calla, this is Whitney Dwyer. And Max Blackwell. They’re both Secret Service agents.”
Max greeted her and said, “Let’s sit in the living room.”
After everyone was ensconced in seats, Whitney was still stunned. Of all his family, she was the only one who knew about his relationship with Calla, though her cousin would never tell her what happened after she left him. In a weak moment, Connor had shown her pictures.
Her cousin began. “Calla has to seek asylum in the United States. She looked her situation up online but thinks her situation precludes getting help. We want to know if that’s true.”
Max nodded. “Can you tell us why you’re seeking asylum?”
She glanced nervously at Connor. “Connor, I don’t want you to hear all this again.”
Connor sat back against the couch. “I’ll deal with it.”
Holding Whitney’s gaze, she said, “I left the Middle East to marry a very wealthy man in Casarina. These kinds of arranged marriages are the way of the royals. My father had business dealings with Lorenzo Bertocchi as he owns several vineyards, which make up a large part of the economy. And Papá needs an heir. Women don’t rule. Only males.”
“Wow!” This from Whitney.
“Lorenzo had a good reputation. He was always kind to me before I left. We dated some, and he presented himself as a generous man. My father made arrangements for us to marry.” She gave a brief rundown of how her mother had insisted on some freedom for her daughters. “Truthfully, I was surprised that Lorenzo waited that long, but being the father of a future king was too appealing. In any case, after we wed, he showed his true colors.”
“What did he do?”
“He beat me.” Her voice trembled. “It didn’t start until we were unable to conceive after the first two months. Before that, he was...rough with me, but he never hit me.”
Max’s jaw tightened. “How long did this go on?”
Here her gaze dropped to her lap where her hands were clasped so tightly Whitney thought they must hurt. “I lost track.”
“There were too many times to count?” Max’s tone was horrified. He was a good man.
She nodded. When she looked up, there was despair in her eyes. “You must be thinking I’m weak.”
“We’re not thinking that at all.” Max’s tone was gentle. “But why did you stay?”
She explained what she’d told Connor about her father’s request that she give the marriage another try.
Whitney asked, “Did your father beat your mother?”
A small smile. “No. She would never have allowed that. Besides, when they were betrothed, she was pregnant and she got a prenup agreement for herself. But that wasn’t enough. Mama was worried that she might have daughters who would be subjected to Casarina’s laws and customs, particularly a woman is subject to her husband. So she also got him to agree to two things: the girl children could go to university in America if they wanted, and, they would be allowed to live abroad until they turned thirty. Second, she made him promise that when all his daughters did wed, they would have prenups too. Mamá said she would never take vows if he didn’t do all that.”
“Did you ever report your husband’s abuse to them?”
“Yes.” She explained her mother’s outrage, and the rift it caused between her mother and father. “So I went back. My husband promised he’d stop the beatings especially after my father also pummeled him with his own fists.”
“Calla,” Whitney said, “This is awful.”
“What happened next?” Max asked.
“Lorenzo was better for a longer period of time. When he hit me a
gain, I was so wounded, I had to practically crawl away. A servant helped me home to my mother, despite the risk to herself.”
“Kindness often comes when we need it.” That was the real Connor, her cousin who had lost his optimistic view in life when this woman left him.
“Mamá was so angry and didn’t trust my father, and probably me, too, to end this thing. She took me from the palace in the middle of the night. We hid until she could make arrangements to get out of the country.” Calla started to cry in earnest now. “Papá always protected me. Except from this. How could he not help?”
“Because he’s a monster.” Connor’s face had flushed and his tone was angry. “As is Lorenzo.”
Calla buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Shaking his head, probably at the tone he’d spoken in, Connor drew her close, kissed her head and whispered soothing words to her.
Whitney and Max exchanged glances. One thing was for certain. Calla was back in Connor’s life. But given the circumstances, and considering what her initial rejection had done to him, Whitney couldn’t be happy about that.
o0o
Calla had seen children die after a shelling. She’d worked with mothers who were beaten while pregnant. And one of her colleagues had been captured and killed by the enemy. All those times she’d been brave, she hadn’t cried. But now, she was so ashamed of her weakness in going back to him, she could barely tolerate the emotion.
Whitney and Max had gone in to work to use the database in the Threat Assessment Center to research current laws about asylum. They thought they could get more information from the Secret Service site than Calla and Brie had gotten from a regular online search. Calla and Connor waited at his cousin’s condo.
Connor stood. “Let’s go for a walk while we wait.”
“All right.”
Luckily, she’d worn walking shoes. It was getting cooler so Connor fetched a hoodie of Whitney’s for her and she nestled in the cozy fleece. Connor wore one of Max’s sweaters.
The air breezed across her face when they stepped outside. It was brisk, but pleasing. Beside her, Connor started to reach for her hand, but stopped quickly.
“I was thinking about the times we walked in Syria.”
He shook his head. “It was way too hot to be doing that in the summer, even at dawn, but we loved the stolen moments.”