Chapter 33
TIFFANY
Eliza’s home is majestic. It’s very different to Joseph’s; whereas his is modern, almost impersonal but chic and tasteful, Eliza’s is an emblem of wealth, gold furnishings, master paintings, and huge chandeliers everywhere.
Marble gleams, silk shines, and wood is polished.
The scent of flowers hanging heavy in the air.
There is not a speck of dust, and the mirrors gleam and as I wait nervously in the hallway, I am so far out of my depth.
“Tiffany.”
Her welcoming smile chases away any doubts, and she hugs me sweetly.
“Come, I have arranged a small lunch in the garden room. It’s the brightest room in the house and the prettiest one if I’m honest.”
I follow her inside a glorious room filled with sunshine and pretty white furniture covered in florals.
The patio doors are open, allowing the sunlight in. The warmth of the winter sun lacks heat but brightens everything around us.
“If it’s too cold, let me know and I’ll close them. Malik hates it when they are open; he is used to extreme heat and for some reason I prefer to shiver. I forget sometimes that it’s not for everyone, so please, tell me if it’s too much.”
It’s an odd experience because it is rather cold in here and as I settle into my chair, I’m conscious of a burst of heat surrounding me from all angles.
Eliza drops into the chair in front of me.
“I provided a heater for you. I’m sorry, it’s a strange proclivity of mine.”
Her impish grin chases away any concern, and as she offers me a delicate sandwich from a four-tiered stand, I note the delicate bone china and gorgeous lace napkins nestling beside crystal glasses and silver cutlery.
The floral arrangements are breathtaking, and as the heat curls around me on all sides, the cool breeze caresses at the same time, creating the perfect temperature.
“So, how is married life?”
Her genuine smile prompts one of my own.
“Intense.”
“Tell me about it.” She raises her eyes. “These men are extreme in every way, but to be honest, it’s their most redeeming feature. Their personalities take some getting used to, though.”
“You can say that again.”
She pours some tea into a bone china cup that rests on a matching saucer, and it strikes me how very British this is. Charming even.
“Tell me about your life so far, Tiffany. I hope you don’t mind, but Malik told me you fled boarding school to hide out in a convent. It sounds an intriguing story.”
“I suppose, but the reality wasn’t so great if I’m honest.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She appears so kind and genuine, and quite honestly, with only Joseph to talk to, I am craving some female company, other than Mrs. Harrington, of course.
“We were running away from our stepmother who wasn’t really, but she preferred us to address her that way.”
Eliza pulls a face. “Stepmothers suck.”
She offers me a chocolate eclair.
“Boarding school was no better. We were bullied by both the students and the staff, and it soon became clear we didn’t fit in.”
“That sucks too.”
“It did, but I had my sisters, so it was easier.”
“Lucky you. I have three brothers, and if you think your husband is bad, times him by three.”
“I’ll stick to my sisters; perhaps my upbringing wasn’t that bad after all.”
We share a genuine smile, and Eliza pours some more tea from the pot as I continue.
“When our father died, we were at school and the headmistress told us. We were left with Morgan as our guardian and knew we had only one chance to get away. Life at home was guarded, and it didn’t bode well for our return and Alice had learned the Order of The Holy Mother of God wasn’t far away, so one weekend, we slipped out and never looked back. ”
“You were very brave.”
She sighs and shakes her head in pity.
“You did the right thing. I had a similar situation. My stepmother was exactly like yours, and when my father passed, I ran rather than face her.”
“Where did you go?”
I note the flicker of distaste pass across her face and she shivers.
“I took a job as a nanny with a very cruel man. He was deranged, and I swapped one prison for another. It suited me at the time because he was a far better proposition than my stepmother, and I shielded both me and the baby from the dark forces at play.”
“What happened?”
“One day a man arrived, somehow getting past the guards and arranged for me and the baby to escape. He provided a safe place for me and assured me that the baby would be cared for and safe and returned to his parents.”
“He stole a baby?”
I’m horrified, and Eliza nods sadly. “His mother was also a prisoner in the home I shared, but I was never permitted to meet her. She was kept like a dog in the cellar and only brought out when he required her presence.”
Suddenly, my predicament doesn’t sound that bad, and I’m almost afraid to ask.
“What happened to her?”
“It was a happy ending if you’re worried about that. Frankie returned to his parents, and she was saved. Massimo, on the other hand, well, things ended rather badly for him.”
“And your stepmother, what happened to her?”
I’m stunned by the expression of deep satisfaction on Eliza’s face as she whispers, “I shot the crazy bitch on the same step she shot my mother.”
She lifts the teacup and takes a sip, and you would never believe for a second that this woman was capable of cold-blooded murder. Then again, if I had the chance, would I do the same to Morgan? I’m not sure if I have it in me, and I swiftly change the subject.
“How did you find Malik?”
“He found me. He was following the trail of Frankie’s disappearance, and it led him to me. He imprisoned me and tortured me for information.”
“Tortured?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing, and she laughs softly.
“Not that kind of torture, but he has a certain skill in extracting information from his victims, and I wasn’t complaining.”
I shake my head, wondering how Eliza’s story can make mine seem so normal, really.
She leans forward.
“People do terrible things, dangerous things, and acts that in normal life would be considered barbaric. In our world, and I’m including you in that, Tiffany, it’s survival of the fittest. Do unto others before they do the same to you.
You will face your judgment day, and I’m guessing you wouldn’t hesitate if it was kill or be killed. ”
“You know me better than I know myself—obviously.”
She shrugs. “You’ve come this far, and marriage to a man who lives by the mafia code isn’t for the faint-hearted. You will need to be strong, inside and out, to stand a chance of surviving this world. Which is why I asked you here.”
Time stands still as I prepare myself for something I never considered.
An ulterior motive for getting me here.
Eliza glances around her before whispering, “Malik told me something I think you will find interesting. I have his permission to tell you, and it’s your decision whether you act on it.”
“What did he say?”
I’m so curious and she edges a little closer.
“Visit your mom, Tiffany.”
“Is that it?”
She leans back and shrugs.
“That is his message.”
I say nothing because I wasn’t expecting that. What connection is my mom to Malik Karim and why is it so important that I visit her?
The rest of our visit is spent talking generally, and despite our earlier conversation, I relax in her company.
However, when it’s time to leave and I note the guard waiting outside the door, it reminds me of my own imminent test. And yet, for some reason, this visit has helped with that because Eliza has shown me that survival comes at a price.
When I think of Morgan and all the years of abuse, I suffered because of her, my mind is made up. I have a beast walking beside me ready to strike, and if I return to the convent and hide out there, the problem will still be outside waiting for me.