Chapter 19
There has got to be a way out of this.
I huff, grinding my teeth and clenching my fists as I try to think of possible solutions instead of worrying about Fabio’s emotional state.
But it’s all I can think of.
His eyes and the pain weaving in them. I put it there.
I should have kept my big mouth shut. I should have kept his secret a secret.
If things were reversed, I know without a doubt that Fabio would never open his mouth, not at gunpoint, not even with my father.
I open my laptop and slam it, hating that the picture on my screen is of Fabio.
It is one of the photos I took last Friday while we were out for the street project. I started to edit them, and I wanted to frame this one. This one with his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, one hand dipped into his pocket, staring a little above my camera at the person behind me. I caught the rawness of his jealousy.
But in the grand scheme of things, this is not important.
I grunt.
Jake has been kidnapped, and it is all my fault.
I slam my hand against the hardwood of my editing desk, and some of the equipment on it shudders.
I lean back on the sofa behind my desk and try not to meet Vittoria’s eyes as she paces about my studio, cursing in Italian. I don’t understand any of it, though. Despite my father’s insistence, I never learned a word of the language.
She hates Salvatore.
I want to hate him, too, but I find it hard for me to do.
But I hate this. I hate what he is doing. I hate the fact that he is causing me and everyone I love this much pain.
I want to stop him, and I will.
I just need my mind to work.
“We need to find a way to fix it.”
“We will,” she nods and stops pacing. She stares at the door of my studio awkwardly, like something is there or someone is at the door about to deliver the solution we need.
“But how?” I sit up, trying for a confident, business-like tone.
“We need something,” she spins and faces me. “We need someone,” her coal-like eyes drill me as she stalks back to me.
“The cops?” I shake my head, already knowing it is a stupid thing to say. I have been saying and doing a lot of stupid things lately. It makes me wonder if I really am my father’s daughter.
“Yeah, let’s call them and have them up in our business,” she stops beside my desk. “Let’s get the whole of the United States to know and confirm that Fabio has a son,” she smiles slightly. “Shall we?”
“I know it’s stupid,” I pout and sink back into my seat.
“Do you?” She struts away, hands on her hips as she returns to pacing.
“But we need to do something,” I grumble.
I hate this.
Why did I never beg my father to let me into the business? I would have known so much more than I do. I would have been fearless, much like Vittoria.
She is fearless and fearful.
The same with Nina, Salvatore’s fiancée. She gives that fearless and fearful vibe. And they are both around my age.
Yes, Nina was bending to her father’s will and allowed herself to be used by her father, but if he hadn’t trusted her enough, he would never have asked her to do what she did. And if she was a scared kitten, she would have been caught almost immediately.
I am the chicken.
They are the real deals.
After this, I will become more like them. Maybe this is why Fabio cannot accept us getting married. I am an obstacle. Not a support system like Vittoria or Nina.
He can never see me as an equal, because I am not.
“I will lose my mind,” Vittoria grunts and struts to the stool to lean her butt on the edge of it.
“Me too,” I have lost it already.
“I know we need an insider, but I can’t think of anyone,” she chews her lower lips, and her brows slit in a line.
“An insider,” I sit back up and lean my elbows on the desk. “I think…” I pause. It’s another stupid thing to say, but I won’t stop now. “Nina,” I plaster a grin on my face with blank eyes, waiting for her to guffaw and look at me like I am crazy.
“Nina?”
“Yeah,” I stand, seizing the opportunity. “We can use her. I think she might be…”
“That bitch…”
“Vittoria,” I square her with my eyes. “Keep your grievance aside and hear me out first,” I put on a more confident tone, all the while praying that I somehow make sense with what I’m about to say.
“Fine,” she folds her arms across her chest. “You have the floor.”
I totally understand Vittoria’s frustration with Nina. She was Salvatore’s mistress, and secretly carrying his son, when Vittoria was betrothed to him. She had watched as he had beaten his fiancée without saying a word. Forget female solidarity.
“You are yet to make your supposedly helpful point,” Vittoria says impatiently.
“She is just like you,” I start, but she lifts her index finger and flicks it violently, indicating no. “Vittoria, you didn’t have a choice when you were betrothed to Salvatore,” I continue, ignoring her scowl. “I am not sure anyone in their right mind would love my brother,” which brings me to question the rightness of my mind. “We can reach out to her and see how that goes,” I shrug. “Who knows?”
She nods. “Who knows?” She jeers dryly, “She could help us kill Salvatore and free Jake,” she claps. “Brilliant plan.”
“You are letting your emotions guide you,” I clip.
“The girl is a nutcase,” she throws her hands in the air. “She tried to kill me,” she shrieks, her eyes flying wide. “She. Tried. To. Kill. Me!” she stabs her index finger at her chest, dragging her words out so I listen for every stress and articulation.
I nod, aware that Nina also poisoned Vittoria’s drink at her engagement party.
“Fine,” I lift my hands in mock surrender. “Let’s keep thinking,” I stand and sit back on the sofa. “Let us think the day away,” I throw my head back and stare at the mirrored ceiling, too ashamed to look myself in the eye as my reflection stares back, tearing me into tiny pieces with guilt.
“Don’t do that,” she chips. “We don’t need that nasty attitude right now.”
“But what do we have to lose?” I spring up. “If we use the burner phone to call her, she won’t be able to tell anyone, our calls won’t be traced, and we can decide if we want to do it or not based on her response,” I strut to her. “We could…”
Vittoria stands.
“I know it’s stupid, but it’s worth a shot,” I say. “I think we should…”
“Nina might…”
“Let’s just give it a try,” I cut in again, and Vittoria lifts her eyebrows at me, grinding her teeth.
“I will kill her if she tries anything funny around me.”
My mouth is hanging open, and I wonder what I must have said to convince her so quickly.
“You had me at burner phone, and I don’t believe any shit about her being coerced into anything,” she clicks her teeth. “She is a witch and is perfectly able to decide for herself.”
“Burner phone,” I say thoughtfully, knowing full well we don’t have it.
“Here,” she dips her hand into the pocket of her pajama jacket and pulls something out. She smiles mischievously, stretching the burner phone Salvatore had given me, which is supposed to be in my father’s custody.
“You…” I shake my head slowly and smile. “You are a witch, too,” I laugh softly, unable to come up with the right adjective for her smart ass.
“That I am,” she smiles. “I figured we would need it, especially with your show of selflessness, wanting to deliver yourself to Salvatore,” she snickers. “Smart move, very smart,” she mocks.
“I know that was dumb, but what could I have done?”
“Shut up for a start,” she swings the phone at me, and I roll my eyes as I take it.
“You should stop insulting me,” I click my tongue. “I am mostly smart, not street smart, but I am smart.”
“Eva, you said something stupid, but that is okay because that is what love makes us do,” she smiles. “I would already be on my way to Salvatore if I were in your position.”
I nod, finding comfort in her words, “Love makes us do stupid things.”
She nods once. “Yes, exactly. But I would have been on my way to Salvatore with an AK-47,” she struts back to the stool as my mouth drops heavy on the floor.
Comforting indeed.
“Yeah,” I gulp and busy myself with pulling up Nina’s number.
“Do you have a pen and paper, let me scribble out the address of our meeting?” It’s a rhetorical question because she is already going to my desk to help herself with a pen and notepad. “And tell the witch to come alone.”
“Are we going alone?”
“That is left to be seen,” she smirks.
Vittoria’s language for Hell no.