9. You can call me anything
NINE
YOU CAN CALL ME ANYTHING
TROY
Shark’s friend Capital leads us off the private jet and into the air-conditioned lobby of a small airport called Giulia Angelini Airport. I’ll bet a hundred (that’s not a cheap bet, no matter what Shark says) that Giulia is Capital’s relative. Maybe his mom or a rich aunt, not that this guy needs a rich aunt. Judging by his tailored black suit and the crown on the expensive watch he keeps checking, he’s probably someone’s rich uncle.
It occurs to me that when Shark said I can keep the money from the safe, I became rich as well. Since I’m the youngest of six, when my brothers have kids, I’ll be the rich aunt. I will buy everyone a house on the same street, and hell, maybe I’ll buy myself an airport and name it Sharkport.
“Hey.” I playfully bump into Shark.
“Hey back.” He adjusts the big sack of cash he’s carrying. I feel bad that he’s having to carry my money around, but hopefully the bank (or the laundromat he mentioned) isn’t too far from here.
“Imma build an airport and name it after you,” I say. “For saving my life, you know.”
He side-eyes me. “I spared it, didn’t save it.”
“Same difference to me.”
I get a glance from him again.
“What’s the matter, cowboy?” I tease. “You think a girl can’t buy an airport?”
“She can.”
I spot a sign for the ladies’ room and head that way. “brB,” I throw over my shoulder, in a hurry to get inside and release the pressure in my bladder. Once done, I come out of the stall to freshen up in front of the giant mirror and rub my belly. “We’re gonna be all right now, you and me.”
It’s one of those fancy black-and-white bathrooms with helpful toiletries packed into tiny bottles, and I can’t resist taking a lotion with a label that reads Angelini Cosmetics . The last name keeps coming up, so I’m sure it’s Capital’s last name. I wonder about their names, but I don’t need them either. They know mine, so they can look me up and figure out how they’ll get me back to Tennessee.
I’m hoping that’s what they’ll do but also dreading it a little. What do I tell my daddy about the baby? How am I gonna tell him I was an idiot who fell into the trap of a stranger I met on the internet? I can’t even think about that now.
I pop the cap and sniff the lotion, expecting a plain, inoffensive scent, but I get a rich, lush floral one. “Damn, this smells good.” I dump half the bottle into my palm, rub my hands together, then apply it on my neck and arms. I want to keep the rest, but the stupid dress Fis made me wear on the yacht has no pockets. “Double damn.”
A woman comes out of the stall and scares me. I spin around and scream, then press myself into the nearest corner.
It’s a middle-aged lady in a beige hat, and she starts to apologize. “Sorry, didn’t meant to?—”
The next thing I know, Shark’s in the bathroom, gun aimed at the woman.
I try to speak, but I’ve lost my voice because when I find a corner, I slide down the wall and sit on the cold floor. When I’m quiet, nobody will hurt me. They forget about me, which is good, very good, forgotten is good. But the woman needs my help. And I can barely speak. “N—No,” I try to say, but no sound comes out.
Shark’s on his own.
He’s breathing hard, blinking, clearly trying to contain himself, and the woman’s terrified expression might just haunt me forever.
Luckily, Shark is a professional. He steps back and puts his weapon away, then looks from me to the woman, whose wide eyes and open mouth tell me she’s in shock.
“What happened?” he asks.
The woman’s shaking her head.
“It’s my fault,” I say, finding my voice again. “I didn’t realize someone else was in the bathroom. When she came out, I screamed.”
He looks her up and down. “I’m sorry about the confusion. Are you local?”
The woman nods. “I own the coffee shop here at the airport.”
“Thank God.” Shark relaxes his shoulders. “This is a friend of the Angelini family. When she screamed, I assumed she was in trouble. You understand?”
The woman nods, and when he opens the door for her, she rushes outside.
He offers me a hand. I take it and mouth I’m so sorry as I rise.
We walk out and are moving toward the exit when Shark stops to cup my face, forcing me to look up into his normally warm brown eyes that seem hard and lifeless now. It’s the same look I saw when I first saw him on the yacht. It’s the look of a cold-blooded killer, the person he becomes when he works. It’s lifeless and soulless, unlike the Shark I know, who showed me kindness.
“You will need to ease back into society,” he says. “Screaming and startling every time someone approaches you is dangerous. For both of us. You draw attention to yourself and to me. Let’s work on that, because I doubt I could pull back every time. I make fast decisions and kill quickly. I won’t always sense or read the room correctly, which…can lead to innocent casualties. Those attract the noise of the press, which makes everything more complicated. Do you understand?”
The guy’s smarter than he lets on. “Yes, Shark.”
He smiles. “I like it when you call me that.”
“It stuck, didn’t it?” I rise onto my toes and kiss his lips. “I like how you let me kiss you whenever I want.” He’s dangerous and approachable at the same time. It’s an attractive combination that I can’t seem to get enough of. “Don’t forget what you owe me.”
A whistle sounds, and Shark drops his hands from my face, only to intertwine our fingers and pull me out of the airport in the sunshine, where the humidity reminds me of that one summer Mom and Dad decided we should all drive down to Dunedin, Florida, for my aunt Emmy Sue’s wedding. My oldest brother suggested flying, but my parents couldn’t afford seven airline tickets.
We piled into Dad’s van, and they shoved me in the back, where I got sick three times into a plastic grocery bag before Daddy moved me into the front passenger seat next to him. But then Mom started to get car sick in the back, with Carl and Simon following right behind her.
All that happened before the tire blew in the middle of the highway. He replaced it and pulled up into a parking lot for some rest but in the lot some random almost hit our car. I remember Daddy prayed to God he doesn’t shoot the idiot.
We barely made it to the wedding reception, which Mom and I attended with our hair in tight buns instead of nicely done in waves cascading down our backs as we’d talked about. Mom only applied mascara and lip gloss for makeup. She cried the entire time because she never got to do her nails, but that’s okay because the groom’s mother thought my mom was crying because she was so happy that Emmy Sue was marrying her son.
I was seven and didn’t cry. I only wanted a piece of wedding cake.
Recalling these past events, the ones I remember that brought me joy with my family, helps me cope with what arriving here reminds me of. It reminds me of last summer when I arrived overseas and met up with Tracy, a girl who disappeared the moment I walked into my hotel room, not knowing I’d stay here for months before I woke up on Fis’s yacht.
I don’t recall stopping until Shark says, “You’re freezing up again.”
I blink. “Freezing up?”
He nods, but he’s looking not at me, but rather everywhere around me. “Did you see someone you recognize?”
“This place reminds me of Italy is all.” Please don’t tell me we’re near Rome. The name of the airport sounds Italian.
He looks down at me. “What about it is making you freeze up?”
“I met…a man in Rome.” I wish Shark would let it go, but I understand why he’s asking.
“The baby’s father?”
I shake my head. “The baby is mine. There is no father.”
When I say nothing else because fear is locking up my whole body, Shark nods. “Okay. We’re on a private island. Can you move now?”
I can. Gratefully. He doesn’t push me to talk about things I wish had never happened in the first place.
Shark moves away, but I grab his hand. I don’t thread our fingers together like we’re lovers, but I hold it as if I need guidance walking across the street. Which is kind of accurate since our ride seems to be parked there with Capital already sitting inside the…carriage?
A real carriage pulled by horses?
I shield my eyes from the strong sun and see an obsidian carriage with gold trim. A coachman dressed in black on white with a tall hat holds the reins of a pair of horses, one white, one black, both with long manes. I’m a farm girl and have seen plenty of horses, but these aren’t just any horses. They look majestic, almost like royalty.
Shark offers me a hand to climb into the carriage, but I pass it to greet a real life (so cool) coachman and say hi to the horses. I approach one from the front so he can see me. They appear calm and trained, so I extend a hand and wait. Big, intelligent brown eyes regard me, and the horse nudges my palm, telling me it’s okay if I touch him.
I run my hand over his long nose and marvel at the feel of his soft hair. “You are a handsome boy, aren’t you?” I kiss the horse and then, with Shark’s help, climb into the carriage.
I rest my hands on my belly. “Quite a ride you got here,” I say to Capital, who’s sitting across from me. Slowly, the carriage moves forward.
“Thank you. Do you like horses?”
“My grandparents owned a farm with horses. My dad used to drive me and my brothers there almost every weekend. That was in Tennessee. Mom’s from Florida. Used to drive there too, but that’s a story for another day.”
Capital smiles, showing dimples again. This man is as handsome as the devil, I’d say. “Sounds like a nice childhood.”
“Sure was.” I nod, heaviness growing in my chest from missing my folks.
I turn my head toward the roads we’re taking, trying to politely end this conversation. It doesn’t take much for these guys to stop talking. Shark talks only when he has to, and Capital seems content with silence as well.
The coachman takes us down a wide street. On the left is a sandy beach, and on the right is rocky but lush Mediterranean terrain, with red-roofed homes nestled between green trees and rich shrubs.
“You sure we’re not in Italy?” I ask Shark.
A nod from him, but Capital answers, “We’re on Isola di Monteverro. The island is on the Mediterranean, and Corsica is on the other side of the mountain.” He points toward the sea, and I spot another faraway island.
“Now I know where I am. Thank you.” We ride for a while longer when I start to notice something strange. “Oh hey,” I say to nobody in particular. “What happened to the cars?”
Capital shifts in his seat. “I don’t like them on the island.”
“Are you the governor?”
“No, nothing like that.” He clears his throat. “I own all the land here.”
Get out of Dodge! “You own this entire island?”
“Mmhm,” he says. “If there’s anything you need, you can have it.”
Oh wow. “Anything?”
“Anything that’s within my power to give.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“It’s how we treat our family. Isn’t that right, Daddy?” Capital narrows his eyes at Shark.
Next to me, Shark appears uncomfortable and mumbles something under his breath.
“You are my family, are you not?” Capital leans in, elbows on his knees. “Are you not like a brother to me?”
“Yes, Alessio,” Shark says.
“Alessio,” I repeat. “Alessio Angelini. Nice combination of first and last names. How about you, Shark? You wanna tell me yours?”
I don’t expect him to say anything since he hasn’t yet, but I also don’t expect him to palm the back of my neck while looking at Capital, who’s following the gesture, reading it for what it is. A possessive claim.
“You can call me whatever you want, Troy.”
“Except Daddy,” I correct him since I remembered he didn’t care for that nickname.
A nod confirms it.
Alessio leans back, seemingly finished with observing us. It feels like Shark asserted his dominance while I’m over here trying to adapt to whatever this new environment needs of me so that I and my baby can survive it. These two men, without a doubt, are far more powerful than the ones who held me before.
One is wealthy beyond my comprehension, and the other is a professional killer.
“Where are we going?” I cringe at the demand in my voice and correct immediately. “If you don’t mind me asking.” I fist my hands in my lap.
Fis would’ve backhanded me for asking this question. I know because I asked it once. After sporting a bruise for a week, I never asked again and never asked where we were sailing to. Since Italy was the last place I was on shore, when I woke up on a yacht, I thought I was on the Mediterranean. It was only when Shark mentioned the Euxine Sea that I knew approximately where I was.
Kidnappers don’t share their location with captives. Fis feared I’d communicate with someone and tell them where I was. Kidnappers like to keep you ignorant, confused, and scared. Always scared. That way, you’ll do whatever they want.
“Ask away,” Alessio says. “We’re going home.”
Shark, a quiet, solid presence, looking around us and not at us, snaps his head toward Alessio as if Alessio said something unusual. Alessio locks eyes with Shark, and Shark’s jaw moves in a way that makes me think he’s grinding his teeth, suppressing the urge to protest.
Uncomfortable with the tension building between the men, I try scooting away from Shark, but he tightens his hold on the back of my neck. When I whimper softly, he releases me and lets me slide away from him on the bench.
What’s wrong with Alessio wanting to take me to his home? Does Shark not want me there? Probably not. I’m like a rescue kitten he didn’t really want but couldn’t leave behind either, and now that he’s back in his regular life with his family and friends, he doesn’t know what to do with me.