Chapter 33
33
SOFIA
G ideon is dead.
I cry for hours after they throw me in my old suite. It’s as if I’m dying too, except, the torture doesn’t end. The man I love has been torn from me and the hole he’s left behind is too great.
There isn’t enough oxygen in the room to fill the void in my chest. I lay in bed and clutch at my heart, wishing I could tear it out too.
I’ve had loss before. Mom. Pops. Tony. But when they died, it wasn’t like this. It was sad and terrible. This loss, however, is guttural. It goes beyond anything I’ve ever felt.
I want to die too. I want to be with him.
Burying my face in the pillow, I scream. Because I can’t die. I have to live for my baby. For Gideon’s baby.
Sleep eventually overtakes me, but it’s restless and full of nightmares where Gideon is dying over and over again. By the time morning comes, I’m more tired than I’ve been in a long time.
There’s a knock at the door and it opens enough for someone to shove a plate full of eggs inside. I consider leaving them there to rot, but remember that I must remain strong.
I grab the plate and set it on the bed, forcing myself to eat. At least I’m not sitting at the table with Gideon’s murderer.
How could anyone do that to their own son? I don’t know everything, but Gideon shared enough with me to understand what’s happened. Stephen betrayed him. He killed his mother and raised him to become just like him. To finish the job he’d started, so that he could then swoop in and take it all back.
Will he want to do the same with the baby? Raise her to become like him? Loyal to his cause?
I cannot allow that to happen.
Think, Sofe. Think!
Just then, a little black shadow appears as if out of thin air. Icy blue eyes stare at me as he jumps on the bed and bumps his head against my hand.
“Hi, Winter. Where did you—” It dawns on me then, my way to escape.
In the last few weeks before Gideon sent me to Las Vegas, Scarlet showed me some of the hidden passages that not even Gideon knew about. They connect almost the entire manor.
A plan begins to form in my mind. I focus all of my energy on that, all of my pain and anger. It’s fairly straight forward, though it won’t be without it’s risks. First, I’ll make my way to the opening near the kitchen, where I’ll procure a knife. Then, I’ll go to the basement and leave through the garage. I know the code, after all. The key will be to remain hidden from view of the cameras.
I shower and dress in a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and my Columbia hoodie. Winter follows me to the hidden door. Even though I know where it is, I have to search for the edges. Once I find them, I push on the side where the hinges are. The door swings open toward me. And all my hopes are instantly dashed.
“Fuck!” I slam the door shut on the guard posted there. He knew. The bastard knew I’d be using the passageways.
Dropping to my knees, I cry again.
I’m sitting in the window alcove with Winter on my lap, when there’s another knock on my door. I don’t bother looking, thinking it’s probably mealtime and someone will slide in a plate like they did for breakfast and lunch.
This time, however, the person knocking opens the door and steps inside. I turn to see Henry standing there.
“Mr. Black would like your company at dinner,” he says, peering down his nose at me. “I will return for you in thirty minutes.”
Everything in my being tenses at the sight of that traitor. He’s the one that kept Stephen informed of everything Gideon did. He’s the one that let him in.
“I’m not interested,” I tell him.
“Thirty minutes,” he repeats.
I’m still in the same spot when Henry returns. He comes into the suite, his disappointment in my lack of formalwear obvious. “Why haven’t you dressed?”
“Because I don’t give a shit,” I say, nonchalantly. “Tell your boss I’m not hungry.”
“That is not an option. You either come of your own accord, or you will be dragged down.”
I set Winter on the floor and go to stand in front of Henry. A smirk paints across my lips when I realize I’m at least three inches taller than he is.
“You’re a small man, Henry. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Straightening his spine, he spins on his heel and walks away. I follow far behind him to the dining room. By the time I get there, Henry is already seated a place away from Stephen.
“Ah, Sofia. So glad you could join us.” Stephen pats the empty seat beside him and gives me a roguish smile. It’s strange how someone that looks so much like Gideon, stirs the exact opposite reaction in me. Instead of liquid heat, I feel revulsion. “Sit.”
It won’t do me any good to fight it. I learned that lesson with Gideon. Doing as instructed, I go to sit between the two men.
“Henry informed me you enjoy steak,” Stephen says.
I glance at the traitor. “He’s been keeping you informed of a lot of things, it seems.”
“He’s loyal.” Stephen takes a bite of his steak, and points a fork at mine. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come now. It won’t do you or my grandson any good to starve.”
My lips pull tight as I fight the urge to tell him he has nothing to do with my baby. I grab hold of the knife, and cut a thin slice of meat. As I’m doing it, I realize there’s a weapon in my hand.
Before I can do anything with it, however, Stephen clasps his hand around mine. “Let me do that for you.” He pries my fingers from the hilt and takes the blade from me. “I’d hate for you to get hurt.”
He cuts my food for me, then places my would-be weapon far from my reach. I stab a piece of steak with my fork and jam it into my mouth.
Stephen watches me with too much interest, an amused grin on his face. “Sofia Sinacore. Daughter of Nico Sinacore.”
“Congratulations. You know who I am.”
Chuckling, he sits back to get a better view of me. “I don’t just know who you are. I know what. You are a mafia princess through and through. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not just calculating how to get out of here. You’re thinking of how you can do it and kill me in the process.”
I stop chewing. That was exactly what I was just wondering, if there was a way to have my cake and eat it too. “You’re a mind reader.”
“It’s what makes me so successful.”
Stephen and Gideon’s resemblance is more than skin deep. That means, though I just met him, I know Stephen too. Except, it doesn’t help me at all. I could never read Gideon the way he could do with me. Dammit!
“I met your father years ago,” he continues. “In fact, I met you when you were a child. Do you remember me?”
“You must not have been that memorable.” Or Pops shielded me from being around him long enough for me to form a memory.
Laughter erupts from him. “You’re amusing, Sofia. I can see why Gideon would enjoy your company.”
Gideon. How can he so easily speak about the son he just murdered? My anger begins to rise in my throat. I can taste the acridity on my tongue.
“Good genes. Healthy. Beautiful. You know the risks of this business.” Stephen is still talking, though I’m hardly listening. I’m far too focused on staying calm as I’m filled with the image of Gideon being shot, the crimson water surrounding him, and the heartlessness in which he was left there.
The fork in my hand glints, and I shift my attention to it. Suddenly, that evil part of me, the one Gideon insists I have, perks up.
“I had higher hopes for my son,” Stephen rambles on. “In the end, he disappointed me. But in this, he did not. With you, he chose well.”
“Yes, he did!” I fist the fork and aim for his eye with all my might. The utensil sinks into his cheek instead, hitting bone.
Stephen screams, grabbing at his face. I leap out of my seat and make to run, but Henry throws out his leg and trips me.
“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” I’m yanked up by my hair. Stephen drips blood everywhere as he bends me over the table. He slams my face against the wood, pushing my head into it so hard, I fear he may crush my skull.
“Let me go!” I try to buck him off, but he doesn’t budge. A drop of blood lands on my brow and I cringe.
Stephen tuts me. “You can’t be so squeamish about a little blood, dearie.”
“Sir,” Henry interrupts. “Shall I take her back to her room?”
“I think some time in the hold will do her good.” Stephen releases me, but not before digging his fingers painfully into the back of my neck. “If I were you, I’d work really hard on your manners. It would behoove you to get on my good side, because once you’ve delivered my grandchild, I will have no use for you.”
“Come, girl!” Henry wraps his meaty fingers around my arm.
I glance back at Stephen. As if I’ve merely scratched his skin, he wipes at the fork wound with a napkin. He’s staring at me in a way that makes me shiver. It’s the same feeling I got every time I saw his portrait.
“Traitor,” I hiss at Henry. “You’ll go to hell for what you did.”
He whirls on me. “Shut up, girl! If you want to live, keep your mouth shut. Your only chance at surviving this is to please Mr. Black. No one will come to save you. Gideon won’t risk returning now that he knows we are in full control of the?—”
“What do you mean, he won’t risk returning?” I dig my heels in.
The traitor goes stock-still. “What I meant was?—”
“He’s alive?” My heart hammers in my chest as hope fills my entire being. Gideon is alive?
Henry grabs me once more, this time, more roughly. He drags me down the stairs, to the basement. But as he fumbles with the key pad of the hold, his hold slackens.
This is my shot.
I kick him in the shin. He screams in a note that would make an opera singer proud and releases me. I don’t wait to see what he’s doing. I run like the dickens, glancing at the crimson water, now devoid of a body, all the way to the dark room. I slam the door shut behind me and set the bolt. Moments later, he’s there, demanding I let him in.
As if.
Fast as I can, I search for the knives I hid under the shelves when Gideon first gave me this space. It was a security measure I intended to use if he ever came in here after me. However, when he did, I completely forgot they were there, my mind and body preoccupied with other things.
Crouched in the corner, two blades ready to cut anyone that comes near me, I wait. Because I don’t believe what Henry said.
If Gideon is alive, he will come for me.