Chapter 57 Gabi #2
“A woman. I never saw her again. I bet she’s dead, too. And then…and then he was there, the man I got promised to. A Russian. With tattoos on his fingers exactly like your father has.” I shoot Yuri a glance where he’s stiffened in his seat. “Like the ones you used to have.”
Ivan and Yuri exchange glances, and unspoken words travel between them, not for my ears.
“Did you get a name?” Yuri asks.
“No! Everything went over my head. I was petrified. All I recall is how he spoke on a call for the duration of what they did to me, his face in the shadows.”
“Where were you, moya ptichka?” Ivan asks, softer.
“In the crypt. It was dimly lit, until she blinded me with her light.” God knows, the horrors that swept through my mind at that moment still haunt me.
“Can you recall anything else about this man? Besides the tattoos?”
“He was old? That’s the only thing I registered. Too old for a thirteen-year-old girl. I’d guess he’d be in his seventies right now.”
Both men sigh in unison because it’s useless information, but the tattoos must be worth something?
“At that age, anybody older than twenty seems ancient,” Yuri says drily, and Ivan just shakes his head.
“I’d probably recognize his voice more than anything.
I hear it in my nightmares…this is why I took up Russian, studying like my life depended on it.
I knew he was going to come for me, and when he did, it would be my biggest asset.
Him not knowing I understood what he said.
I didn’t foresee being here in your house like this. ”
Ivan stands from where he’s been crouching by my chair, stretching to his full length to look down at me.
“Yes, yet here we are.” He walks around the desk to sit in his chair and face us. “What do your brothers know about this?”
I gasp. “Nothing! Do you really think I would tell my brothers this of all things?”
“You never know. They might have been in on it.”
I’m stunned at this suggestion. I don’t know my brothers as well as I should, but Dominic…Matteo…they would never allow this. “No. They didn’t know about my existence until Randazzo died. I’ve spent every day running from this Russian ever since I told Mother Lucia—”
“So she knew?”
“Not about the piercing, and only later.” I want to roll my eyes, feeling like I need to mansplain everything.
“I had to tell her about the secret meeting that fucking priest arranged, because I stopped talking after that, just like I did when I was seven. Then the priest died, and she knew something terrible had happened. She eventually got me to talk, but I never told her all the details, just about Randazzo, the promise, and my Bible.” I swallow, really wanting a drink now, eyeing the vodka Yuri placed on the desk. “And then, we started to run and hide.”
A beat of silence fills the room, Ivan studying me intensely. “Is that what you are doing here? Running and hiding?”
There’s no point in twisting the truth now. “Yes. I never planned to stay.”
“I see.” Anger flashes in his gaze. “Marriage is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
Marriage was never my plan. I got married to secure Milana’s exit, but I can’t tell him that. “This marriage was your and my brothers’ plan, and you know it. I had zero hand in it.”
“And yet you would become a mother to my girls and leave?”
There’s something raw in his tone, but it’s cold, too, as if he wants to ice over his emotions.
But I got to know him a little, as well.
Somehow, during every close moment and soft conversation, the respect and restraint he has shown me up to the wedding, Ivan has revealed himself to me, too.
He wants a good, solid marriage, for his girls’ sake.
This transgression of mine is personal, this broken trust borderline unforgivable, and it cuts him deep.
“Only to protect them, Ivan,” I say, defeated. “He is still coming for me.”
“How do you know?” Yuri asks.
“Mother Lucia got killed after we left the convent in Potenza. Her death was one of a few in northern Italy, all aimed at convents. They’ve whitewashed it as refugee or immigrant crimes, but I know better.
She always erased our tracks, as best she could, changing names, sourcing new identities.
I think even Randazzo lost track of us at some point, but somehow, they always caught up.
” I take a deep breath; it’s now or never.
“And now I suspect they are after a friend of mine, but she’s disappeared. I need your help finding her. Please.”
There’s no mistaking my plea, but the office turns quiet as the men digest my words, and eventually, I can’t take it anymore. I reach for the vodka, toss some back, and this time I’m ready for the burn. I don’t wince, I don’t blink; I let it flush down my throat in a satisfying burst of heat.
A smirk plays in the corner of Ivan’s mouth as he watches me, but I don’t care. Let him watch. He’s already seen me at my most exposed, at my most vulnerable, and I gave him access to all of me, even the most private parts.
I finish the drink, and the buzz hits my bloodstream as if I poured it straight into a conduit to my veins.
Ivan reaches for the bottle. “A top off?”
“No, thank you.” In my books, we’re done here.
He pours himself another drink, and Yuri holds out his glass for more.
“So you claim you’re a fugitive and not a spy?” Ivan asks, his eyes on me over the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip.
“Yes!” For fuck’s sakes. What more does he want?
“Prove it.”