39. Confessions
CONFESSIONS
Enzo wasn’t lying; Nico Morello is young.
And handsome.
And cruel.
He slaps me on the tarmac, in front of ten men who must work for him and not my father.
At least, I hope they don’t. For his many failings as a parent, I’ve never seen Salvatore raise a hand to my brothers, and he’s never touched me with anything except affection.
Then again, he offered me to this man, so he clearly cares a lot less for my welfare than I thought.
I don’t react to the slap, don’t flinch or cry or cower, and that appears to infuriate Nico more.
I eye the gun of the guard nearest to me, understanding why I was never taught to use one.
They didn’t bother to bind my hands. They don’t see me—a woman—as any sort of threat, and if there wasn’t so many men surrounding me, I’d risk proving them wrong right now.
It’s smarter to wait, to bide my time, but I will act.
I don’t care if I die trying to escape. I’d rather die than spend my life with this man.
Dramatic yet accurate.
“Get her in the car,” Nico snaps.
I’m roughly shoved ahead. Pushed into the back seat, where I’m sandwiched between two formidable men. One is the sandwich-eating suit who abducted me off the shuttle. If I have to shoot someone in my escape, I’ll aim at him first.
Twelve hours ago, I felt sick about snuffing out a life.
Circumstances can change a lot. They came after me, cut off all my choices.
I didn’t feel guilty about giving Lev the drive before.
Now, it’s the main motivator keeping me going.
Hopefully, there is information on there that will harm Nico, too, not only Salvatore’s operations.
We drive to my father’s villa, which is a welcome surprise. Not only is it a familiar place—and one I’ve escaped before—but it means my father is still a factor in this situation. I’m his blood, and I don’t know how much that will matter, but it’s more regard than Nico will give me.
Inside, I’m steered into the office. I’ve only been in this room once before, years ago. Salvatore and I had a conversation that sounded more like a job interview, as he questioned me about my life. I was still in college at the time, but the office looks the same now as it did then.
My father is seated at the desk, my brothers standing in a loose formation behind him. Obviously, they were informed we were coming.
None of them smile as we enter, but Salvatore’s jaw clenches when one of Nico’s men gives me an unnecessary push to let me know I’m not moving fast enough for him.
“Surprise,” Nico drawls, sweeping his arms wide. “She was in Dublin, not Paris. And she wasn’t alone. He was trained. Took out an entire team a mile from the airport.”
That must have been the silver sedan.
Salvatore nods once. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Nico scowls. “That wasn’t—”
“Our arrangement? I didn’t ask you to hunt down my daughter, Nico. I told you we would handle it.”
“By searching the wrong city?”
Salvatore’s expression doesn’t shift a centimeter.
I’ve never heard anyone speak to my father this way, and it makes me increasingly uneasy that Nico appears to have that power.
Salvatore made it sound like the marriage was his choice—was it really?
I can’t decide if that’s better or worse.
Better because handing me over wasn’t entirely voluntary or worse because he might not be capable of changing the deal.
“You have a lot going on, Nico. Tracking down my daughter means you want this alliance as much as I do. Walk out of here before I ask about that mark on her face.”
“Don’t take your time,” Nico warns. “I want this alliance, but I have other options, Salvatore. You do not.”
He stalks out of the office, followed by his men. I glare at the one who shoved me as he passes, and he shoots me a smarmy smile while his boss’s back is turned.
Not that Nico would disapprove. He’d probably follow it with one of his own.
The door shuts behind them. Total silence lurks in the wake of its slam.
Enzo, unexpectedly, is the one to speak first. “Hand it over, Carina.”
Now that Nico is gone, I prod the inside of my throbbing cheek with my tongue. Wince before uttering a sarcastic, “What? No welcome home?”
“You think this is a fucking joke?” Enzo lurches a step forward, only to be stopped by Leo’s outstretched arm and a quick shake of his head.
Salvatore stands, strolling closer in a leisurely manner that is, frankly, more unnerving than being attacked.
“You made it all the way to Dublin. Clever.” My father manages to make what I would usually consider a compliment come across as an insult. Foolish is what it sounds like he’s really saying, like I’ve made everything worse for myself.
After meeting Nico, I can’t say I disagree.
“You gave me no choice.”
“Choices are earned, Carina.”
“He’s awful, Papà. Vile. He hit me.” I point at my sore cheek. “It’s bad enough that I wasn’t given a choice. But you chose him?”
My father doesn’t react. Just as uncaring as I used to pretend he wasn’t for the sake of my sanity. Pretending I had one parent was preferable to the reality.
“Where is the drive?”
I utter a humorless laugh. I suspected that was the real priority here, but the confirmation still stings.
“Gone.”
Enzo swears loudly.
A storm seethes in eyes identical to mine. I favor my mother, based on the few photos I’ve seen of her, but my eyes match Salvatore’s green ones exactly.
“Where?”
“Lev Sokolov took it.”
All four Carusos freeze in response to his name. I think Lev would appreciate their stunned reaction if he were here. Despite the desperate situation, I’m amused on his behalf.
“You’re lying,” Enzo snarls.
“How do you know that name?” Leo asks.
Nico’s men drove me to another smaller airport before we boarded a six-hour flight back to Sicily. I’ve had plenty of time to decide what to say. It was the only thing that kept me sane and calm during the trip.
“He found me in Paris. Took me to Dublin—”
“Why would he do that?” Luca interjects.
I aim my iciest glare his way. “I wasn’t exactly consulted. I was a captive. He searched me, found the drive, and took it. I saw an opportunity to run at the airport, did, and then Nico’s men grabbed me.”
I don’t have to fake the disgruntlement in my tone. I’m peeved—pissed—that my sole shot at freedom was snatched away. I resent Nico Morello for that, if nothing else.
“Did he hurt you?”
I point at the mark on my face more aggressively.
Leo shakes his head. “Not Nico. Sokolov.”
I scoff, then stiffen when I realize my mistake. I should be as outraged at Lev. But I can’t summon a lie either. “He didn’t hurt me,” I say quietly.
Enzo scoffs. “Shocking, given his reputation.”
I want to ask more questions about what that means, but I don’t. I can’t tell if they believe me, but I don’t think they are certain I’m lying either.
“What did Sokolov say to you?” Salvatore takes over on my interrogation.
I shrug. “Not much. He was intimidating. I wasn’t trying to piss him off. Most of his phone calls were in Russian, so I didn’t understand anything.”
“Great,” Enzo grouses.
I glower at him. “Do you speak Russian?”
Leo ignores our bickering. He’s focused on Salvatore. “If the Russians bypass that encryption …”
“I know,” Salvatore snaps.
They appear to have mostly forgotten about me, so maybe it’s a stupid time to speak up. But I do anyway. “I know how to get it back.”
Four sets of angry eyes land on me.
I swallow hard before saying, “He was supposed to bring me to Russia. He failed. If you give him a chance to grab me again, he will.”
There are so many ways this could go wrong—I can’t even count them all. But staying here, waiting for my fate to be decided, is intolerable. A bad plan is better than none at all.
Enzo scoffs. “Did you ask for his number? How’s he supposed to know? We don’t advertise what we’re doing to the fucking Russians.”
I play another risky card. “You don’t have to advertise anything. They have a mole.”
Another surprised silence follows. All three of my brothers are staring at Salvatore.
“Who?” my father barks.
“I don’t know. He never mentioned a name. I just know he was getting information. That’s how they knew I’d run, he said. So, if you move me somewhere and make sure all your men know about it, he will too. Then you can get your precious drive back.”
“You’re offering yourself up as bait? How selfless, sister,” Leo drawls.
I fix him with a hard stare. “I was scared. I didn’t want to marry a stranger.
I ran, and I took the drive so I had something to bargain with.
But I never meant for anything else to happen.
I want to help make it right. That man …
took me.” There’s a natural waver to my voice when I refer to Lev, one I hope they’ll interpret as negative emotion.
“I don’t want him to have whatever is on that drive.
I am a Caruso too. I won’t be alone this time.
Unless you’re worried you won’t be able to handle the Russians …
why would I be worried? I’ll be safe bait. ”
Predictably, they all bristle at the implication they’ll be outmatched. Some male impulses are useful.
“What if he doesn’t bring the drive?” Luca asks. “There’s no reason for him to.”
“Then grab him and make him tell you where it is,” I suggest.
Enzo laughs. “Grab Lev fucking Sokolov? We might as well declare war.”
“Do you have a better idea?” I demand.
Silence answers for him.
“Where are we supposed to take you?” Luca says.
I exhale, not having to fake the exhaustion in the sigh. I’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours. During that stretch, I killed someone, said a final goodbye to the guy I’d been in love with for a decade, and was abducted by my psychotic potential fiancé.
“I don’t know,” I say wearily. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
I’m not sure I should have told them anything. I could have lied—said a pickpocket took the flash drive on the train to Paris, tried to escape at the first opportunity, and prayed it was successful. Too late now.
“Get her out of here,” Salvatore instructs, nodding to me, as if there were more than one her in the room.
“I don’t need an escort,” I state.
I might not have spent much time in the house, but I know the way from Salvatore’s office to the bedroom I occupied last week.
“You have one,” my father states coldly. “It was stupid to run, Carina. You’ve made everything worse for yourself. And if you try to run again …” He lets his voice trail threateningly.
I suppress a shiver, tempted to touch my cheek. It feels hot and puffy, so it must be swelling.
I’m not in control. I have no gun to bluff my way out of here. The papers and money Lev gave me were left on the airport shuttle, undoubtedly in the bin of an Irish lost-and-found by now. If I do manage to escape again, it’ll be harder to hide away.
I swallow hard, nod, then follow Luca into the hallway.