23. Ivy
23
IVY
I lie.
It’s a punishing betrayal, but I can’t really tell an imprisoned mafia member that she’s being kept entertained by someone with my familial ties.
Instead, I concoct a story about being raised by a single mother and lean into the truth of my mom’s Greek heritage to explain my olive skin and dark features.
I’m too paranoid to dive into my mixed racial background.
Again, we talk for hours, until my eyelids droop and my body screams for sleep. And when I say goodnight and wait for her reply, I’m tempted to walk through the darkness and slide my arms between the metal bars to give her a cuddle.
When the following night falls, I don’t question whether or not I’ll visit her again. As soon as Catarina leaves for her cottage I lock the deadbolt behind her and take the steps to the basement two at a time.
For almost a week we chat like this, learning about each other and growing more comfortable in the shared company. Adena opens up about imprisoned life—how she misses the little things like fresh air and sunlight on her face. Apparently, every day overhead fluorescent lights turn on, allowing her to keep sane with knitting projects thanks to Salvatore bringing her supplies.
She updates me on the progress of these projects nightly, her woven patch of light blue wool quickly changing to resemble a sweater. She even coaxes me to come forward and feel the softness of the weave. But I’m too paranoid about being seen on camera.
When we’re not chatting, I’m planning what to share with her next. I’m sure I’ve blown my familial cover a time or two—first when I tried to add to a conversation about family traditions and mention my love of the Day of the Dead. And again when we discussed foods we don’t like and I happened to mention when my uncle forced me to try escamoles—a distinctively Mexican delicacy of insect caviar. But Adena doesn’t notice. Or if she does she doesn’t seem to attribute it to a sinister connection.
We’re too busy eating up each other’s lives. Bonding like best buds.
“You’ve been in better spirits these last few days.” Catarina places my breakfast in front of me, the generous spread of bacon, eggs, spinach, and fried tomato smelling delicious as always.
“Thank you.” I smile. “I guess I’m starting to feel more like myself again.”
I’ve always been social by nature, and Adena’s company has helped bring me back to life.
“Well, maybe Salvatore’s return will be the final brick needed to rebuild your confidence after all your misfortune.”
I pause in the middle of reaching for my glass of water. “Salvatore is returning?”
She grins and rounds the island counter. “He called and asked me to prepare for more mouths to feed. So as soon as I finish breakfast I’m on my way to the store. Is there anything you need while I’m gone?”
I shake my head, a lightness taking over my chest.
It’s been more than a week since I’ve seen him. Double-digit days where my injuries have healed and bruises faded, but those locked mental boxes of complications we need to discuss are still waiting in the wings.
“Do you have an ETA?” I start chopping into my meal, eager to rush down the stairs and tell Adena her son is coming.
“Not yet.” Catarina snatches a set of keys off the island counter. “If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”
As soon as she walks from the mansion and the birds squawk to announce her farewell, I rush to the kitchen with my plate, scrape my half-eaten meal into the disposal, then run for the basement.
“He’s coming,” I pant in greeting, her brightly lit cell seeming entirely foreign under the florescent light.
Adena stands from her seated position on her small cot, the large spool of wool on her lap falling to the floor. “Who?”
“Salvatore.” I bounce on my toes like a child, unable to contain my excitement for her… and okay, maybe a little for me too. I’m eager to see a familiar face, and even more enthusiastic to level up our catty tête-à-tête.
Adena’s eyes widen, her expression falling blank for numerous heartbeats before she relaxes into a cool smile. “Now?”
“Soon.” I nod. “Catarina just left to get groceries.”
Adena quickly places her knitting needles on the mattress and approaches the steel bars of her cage, grabbing them in both hands. “It’s important you don’t tell him you’ve been down here.” Her gaze pleads with mine. “There will be terrible repercussions for both of us. I’ll be punished and?—”
“I won’t. I promise.” I remain out of view of the cameras, my chest aching with the need to scramble into the surveillance zone to reassure her.
I get that this is her equivalent to prison visitation day. It’s a big deal. And my knowledge of her captivity is ruining her buzz.
“I won’t say a word.” I inch closer to the end of the passage. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She nods, her acceptance almost convincing. “I trust you.” She bends to pick up her wool. “I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
No. Never.
She’s become a staple in my life.
“You should go and get ready for him.” Her lips tilt in a conniving curve. “I’m sure you will be his priority once he arrives. Not me.”
My face heats. God , I never should’ve implied we were romantically involved. “There’s honestly nothing going on between us.”
She takes the information with a raised brow. “But you’ve slept together, no?”
Jesus . She doesn’t hold her punches.
I place a hand to my belly, trying to settle the awkward clench of my gut.
Her attention follows my splayed fingers, her gaze narrowing.
Shit . I understand that look. The assumption.
She clears her throat abruptly while I quickly drop my hand to my side. “Be careful when you come back to visit me tonight.” She sits on her cot, the mattress springs squeaking in protest. “Make sure Salvatore is asleep.”
I nod and pick at a loose thread on my long-sleeved blouse, wishing I could sarcasm my way out of this, but poking fun at how much I don’t want to be caught dead with her son ever again doesn’t seem like an appropriate way to dig myself out of the weirdness.
“Now go,” she demands. “Get pretty for my son. And keep this secret between us for now.”
I sigh and do as she asks…at least the leaving part.
I don’t make any attempt to improve my appearance for Salvatore. The light dusting of makeup and combed hair is more for armament. A protective shield of confidence.
I’m in the middle of applying a light hint of lip gloss in my private bathroom when my cell vibrates from my bedside table. I work my lips together, spreading out the gloss as I enter the bedroom and retrieve my phone.
Liv
I hope you’re prepared for visitors.
I fumble over my fingers in an attempt to quickly type back.
Ivy
What does that mean? Are you coming to see me? Do you know where I am?
Liv
We’re already driving onto the property. Open the front door.
My pulse thuds with excitement as I throw my phone to the bed and sprint into the hall, Lorenzo’s birds shrieking from the backyard.
I’m at the front door in seconds and stepping outside while a black SUV pulls up with my best friend’s smile beaming at me through the open window of the back seat.
I'm about to sprint for her, to drag her from the car and into an unforgiving bear hug I know she’ll hate when my attention strays to the driver and gets caught up in the sinful black hole that is Salvatore Costa.
My internal organs melt, those dark eyes trapping mine to turn my pulse rampant.
He’s better-looking than I remember—more devilish—his appearance seeming less human and more like a beautifully crafted weapon I’m utterly defenseless against.
Damn him .
I ignore it—ignore him— and return my attention to Liv, opting for a more composed stride toward the car. I grin at her as the vehicle slows to a stop and her door flings open.
“Surprise.” She leaps out, throwing her arms wide to greet me.
“Since when did you become a hugger?” I engulf her, dragging her into my chest to breathe in the familiar strawberry scent of her hair.
“I’ve changed. You getting taken by Gabriel was another untimely reminder of how short life is.”
I wince. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you grieve your dad.”
“You had a legitimate excuse.” She squeezes me tighter as car doors open and two criminals climb out. “Don’t worry. Remy has taken care of me. You wouldn’t believe how well I’ve been treated.”
She’s right. I wouldn’t believe it. But now isn’t the time to get between her and delusional happiness. “How long have you known I was in Virginia Beach?” I pull back to meet her stare.
“Since the night you were rescued.”
“And you thought it was a smart idea to come visit?”
She shrugs. “To be honest, I’m a little burned out on giving a shit about the dangers involved. I’ve been too worried about you. And when Remy mentioned that—” She lowers her voice to a whisper “—the antichrist in Armani over there was coming to check on you, I demanded to come too."
One of the men clear their throat.
I glance over Liv’s shoulder to find Salvatore leaned against the vehicle in a perfectly tailored, all black suit, his brother at his side, both of them watching us intently.
“Are you two done?” Salvatore drawls.
Liv stiffens, obviously daunted.
I, on the other hand, raise a brow and square my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sally. Did you want a hug too?”
Remy disguises a laugh under an exaggerated cough and pushes from the car. “I think that’s our cue to get settled inside, pyro.” He approaches and takes Liv’s hand. “I’ll get our bags later.”
My insides protest the way he touches her and how she practically stares at him with cartoonish love-heart eyes before they both look at me.
“Will you be okay?” she asks.
“With him?” I hike a thumb toward the suit-clad egomaniac who remains relaxed against the car. “Of course. Me and Sal go way back.”
Liv gives me a subtle look of warning, then nods, and follows her murderer’s lead inside. I keep my gaze on her, not wanting to give the magnetic monster in my periphery any undue attention, but then she disappears from view and it’s just me and his commanding energy as he pushes from the vehicle to stand at his full imposing height.
“I’m surprised to see my uncle’s house still standing.” He strolls forward, his hands lazily sliding into his pockets. “I would’ve thought you’d burned it to the ground by now.”
I shrug. “I’ve been waiting until you were inside.”
He smirks. It’s lazy and smug, yet sinful enough to rearrange my heartbeat without my permission. “That’s a funny way of showing how much you want me, but okay.”
“If you’re referring to my desire to want you flattened under the wheels of a bus, then yes, ninito, I want you more than anything in this world.”
He snickers and my breath pathetically catches in my throat.
“You might want to tell those man-eater eyes to convey the same message.” He holds my gaze as if tempting me to glance away. “Because you look turned on to me.”
I glower. “You need glasses.”
“I see just fine, mi bella reina . I even noticed the pitiful Walmart clothes.” His attention rakes over me. “You didn’t ask Catarina to make better use of my credit card?”
“No. I didn’t need her to.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I look darn cute in my stonewashed jeans and pretty blouse.”
He inclines his head. “I’m not going to argue. But under my care, someone who looks like a runway model isn’t going to dress like the underprivileged. I’ll make arrangements for appropriate clothes.”
Runway model ?
The compliment temporarily distracts me from the bigger picture—I do not need to be more indebted to this man. “I don’t want different clothes.”
He walks for the house. “Yes, you do.”
Okay, fine , I do, but—“You’re only doing this because you want me to owe you.”
“Smart girl.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I have no money, Salvatore Costa.”
He continues without pause, those expensive loafers crunching against the gravel drive. “Don’t worry, bella reina . I’m more than happy to give you an alternate repayment plan.”