Chapter 17
Jake has been kidnapped.
The clues piece together in my head, and my brain whirls.
Fabio is outside the car, pacing back and forth as he continues the conversation with Mindy. I have never seen him so out of his element. I want to help but I can’t do anything because I don’t know the full gist.
He is just a boy—a six-year-old boy—that no one is supposed to know about.
Jake is the son of the underboss of the Teso clan, which makes him a magnet for things like this. Many would want to get their hands on him to reach his father. But who would dare cross Fabio like that?
My father had restrictions. He would let you poke a few times before acting. But everyone knows Fabio doesn’t take that time to linger before acting. It is why they balance each other out so well. While one wants to think the situation through and make sure no one he loves will get hurt, the other wants action and thinks while acting.
I twist in my seat, chewing the inside of my mouth frantically as I try to think of the best possible solution. We can’t call the cops.
I scrape my fingers through my hair, mimicking Fabio as he rakes his through his own hair in frustration.
He opens the car door and climbs in, tossing the phone in the cupholder. His jaw tightens and he gulps, his throat flexing visibly. He takes a deep breath, one that shuts his eyes. He turns to me with a sharp look in his eyes.
“What have you done, Eva?” Fabio narrows his eyes at me, his brows knitting together in a frown that has his forehead crinkling.
Me?
I flutter my lashes, fanning the shock and confused at the insinuation.
“What do you mean by what have I done?” I shoot back because if this is another of his many reasons to turn the tables and make it about me needing to be with him, then this time for real, I am done.
He picks up his phone again. “You are the only one who knows about Jake,” he says, punching something into his phone, dialing, or texting someone.
“And what does that have to do with anything?” I fling my hands in the air. “Why would I kidnap your son?”
He lifts his eyes from the screen of his phone, “Why would you kidnap my son?”
“You tell me,” I shrug.
“Eva, please, for the fucking love of God, tell me this isn’t some prank.”
“What are you saying?” I holler.
“You are the only other person who knows about Jake,” he says, his voice losing its usual calm, collected tone.
“And what does that have to do with him being kidnapped?” I scoff, “You know you have enemies, and they would seek any means to get back at you, Fabio.”
“The enemies I have didn’t know about my son, and wouldn’t have if no one said anything to them,” he straps his seat belt on. “Who did you tell?”
“No one,” I answer quickly. I told nobody of… importance. And by that I mean, no one that would need the information for anything such as this.
“Are you sure about that?” He starts the car.
“Except…”
“Except who?”
“I told Gloria about it,” I stutter, “In class…”
“For Christ’s fucking sake, Eva!” He roars and my bones clatter.
“I told her about everything that happened last weekend,” I add quickly so he doesn’t think I only was talking about his son. “I needed someone to talk to.” Now that I am thinking about it, anyone could have heard the conversation.
“You put the life of my son at risk because of some cheap gossip?” He booms. “I trusted you,” he grinds. “Is that how you want to handle things, how you plan to be his stepmom?”
“I didn’t mean…”
“But you fucking did, you fucking announced to the entire world that I have a son,” his rage reflects in his darkening gaze as it burns into me.
What have I done?
The heaviness twists my intestines, and I dry heave from the unsettling feeling in my stomach. He is only six years old. I could have kept my big mouth shut, but I didn’t. I could have talked about my sex with Fabio without needing to include his son in the cheap gossip.
Hot tears burn in my eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he tuts. “Take responsibility for this. Don’t fucking hide behind your tears.”
His voice isn’t any lighter. If I were anyone else, I would face more than just the bite of his words. But I am not. He would have told no one else about Jake or taken them to see him.
He was protecting this secret. I forced my way through and got this information, and for what reason? To announce it with a loudspeaker?
I sniff, trying not to cry, but I can”t. My eyes burn.
“I said don’t,” he clips.
“I am sorry…” I hiccup. “I didn’t mean to… I was…” I stutter, needing to breathe. “It was just…” I wail, covering my face with my hands as I sob into it, tears spilling like spring water into my hands.
I know he won’t hurt me.
I know he might even understand me. But I betrayed his trust. He probably hates me right now. He is mad at me, and I am scared.
What if something happens to Jake? What if the enemy is like Boris, the man who killed my mother and taunted my father for years until my father had to put an end to him?
If the enemy is like Boris, then Jake is as good as dead.
“Eva, don’t make this worse,” Fabio grumbles. “I need to think, and your crying isn’t helping me. Please, stop.”
I nod, but I have no control here. I reach for the door, but he is quick to lock the car.
“Pull yourself together, please,” he seems frustrated.
“I can’t help it,” I sob.
The car begins to move as he steers us out of the parking lot. I keep my face buried in my hands, too mortified to look him in the eye because of what I might find there.
The chiming of his phone through the loudspeaker interrupts the heavy silence, and he receives the call almost immediately.
“It’s your father,” he whispers to me, and I clamp my lips to muffle my sobs, “Emanuele.”
“Who the bloody hell is Jake?” My father barks through the speaker. I can imagine his coal eyes taking the form of a starless night as he fumes.
“Emanuele…” Fabio grinds his teeth.
I clasp my lips some more, sobbing harder now. I caused this. My father knows about Jake.
“Why does my son say he has your son, Fabio?” My father chews out.
Fabio takes a deep breath, “I will explain when I get to the estate,” he gulps loudly. “We are on our way.”
“Bloody hell, Fabio,” my father curses and ends the call.
I did this. It’s my fault. It’s my fault the entire Cosa Nostra is about to find out that Fabio De Luca has a weakness: his six-year-old son.
The car picks up speed and this is not his usual angry fast driving .
“I am going to throw up,” I choke between sobs. “I am going to…” I dry heave.
He doesn’t slow down.
I understand the urgency of the situation, but Fabio will kill me. He will kill us both.
“Fabio, if you kill us, how are you going to save him?” I clench my teeth, trying to hold in the nausea now swimming past my chest to my throat.
“We are home,” he announces, and the car screeches to a stop.
I can’t wait. I bolt out of the car, almost tangling with the seat belt, but by some divine intervention, I manage not to trip over myself and untangle from it quickly enough to throw up beside the car.
I crouch, emptying my stomach.
Fabio is beside me and I am waving him off. He has witnessed too many embarrassing moments for one day
“Here,” he stretches his handkerchief to me and a bottle of water that must have been inside the car. I scramble to take them without lifting my face.
I wash my mouth with the water, instantly needing to brush my teeth, but it will do for now. I dab quickly as I see Fabio in the corner of my eyes, already strutting into the main building.
I scurry after him, wanting to be a part of whatever is going on, if he will let me. I messed up. I don’t know if my presence will make any of it better but I want in.
I march after him, barely able to keep up with his pace as he darts through the door, takes heavy stomping steps up the stairs, and disappears into my father’s study.
I go after him, slipping through the door before he slams it.
I go to stand beside my father, who is by the window.
My dad turns, and I can tell by the look on his face that this is not good. I can tell there”s more fire on the mountain than I had thought since he”s also sporting his trademark black-on-black outfit, a cigar between his fingers, and a lighter that he seems to be flicking open and closed.
“What does he want?” Fabio steps forward.
“Eva,” my father shrugs a little too carelessly.
“I know I shouldn’t…” I begin another round of apologies.
But my father clips his tongue. “Salvatore wants you, he wants to marry you to one of Nina’s cousins to seal his rule in the Bratva.”
“He wants to do what?” Surprisingly Fabio and I spurt it out in sync. But our faces and tones are nothing alike.
While I sound and look every bit as confused as can be, he sounds and looks every bit as angry as can be. I am sure, if and when he sets his eyes on Salvatore, bones will be crushed. But for now, we are helpless.
My father reaches into his pocket and pulls out his gold cigar case. He opens the case, brings out a cigar, and passes it on to Fabio, who lights it while plopping down the sofa. It’s the first time I have seen him smoke in six years.
The slithering urge to go to him and comfort him possess me, but I can’t.
This is my fault. I have to fix this.
Fabio might be getting his wish for us after all.