“I ran away from my family. They weren’t good to me. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between us. An ocean, ideally. So I came here. There’s not much else to be said.”
What did her family do to her? I study her carefully. “You’re afraid of something.”
“No.” Her answer comes too quickly.
“Who are you afraid of?” I press.
“Look, it doesn’t matter. I get paranoid sometimes, that’s all.”
“If you tell me who, I’ll make sure they don’t step foot on this island.”
My offer shocks her, but she only considers it for a moment before she shakes her head.
“Thank you,” she says. “But that won’t be necessary. There’s no way for them to know I’m here.”
I’m tempted to argue. For someone with resources, there are many ways to track a person down. If I ask Ras to look into her, I could probably find out who her family is in a day or two. But I won’t ask him, and it’s for a good reason. With everything that’s going on in my life, Ale Romero can’t be my priority.
Still, I can’t kick her to the curb when she’s hiding from someone. It’s untenable.
I hand her my pen. “Sign the papers.”
She nearly rips it out of my hand. “Thank you.”
“Not a word about this to anyone,” I say once she slides the contract back to me.
“Of course. Thank you again. I mean it.”
Our fingers brush when I take the pen back. Since when do I even notice shit like that?
She leaves, and I rake my fingers through my hair. There’s something about Ale that pulls me to her. Something I don’t understand.
But it’s something that I must learn how to control.
VALENTINA
My second week working at Revolvr is far easier than the first. With the documents fiasco no longer hanging over me, I jump into my work with vigor. My body begins to adjust to the manual labor, and when I get home on Thursday, I have enough energy to put on my bathing suit and take a walk down to the beach.
I slip off my flip-flops and dig my toes into the warm sand. A boy runs past me and screams with delight at his colorful kite. The intensely blue water shimmers like an enormous veil of tiny diamonds. It’s beautiful.
Gemma would love suntanning here while drinking a glass of cool prosecco and reading a mystery novel she picked up at the airport. Whenever we flew anywhere, it was a tradition for her to buy one and crack it open on the plane. And Cleo would have been intrigued by all the nightlife. She’d beg me to get permission from Mamma and Papà to take her out, and when she inevitably got her way, she’d make a big deal out of finding us the perfect outfits. My youngest sister loves dressing up.
God, I miss them. What I would do to squeeze them and give them both a kiss.
Instead of moping, I place my canvas bag on the ground, stuff my dress inside, and make my way toward the water. The cool waves lick at my ankles. I bite the bullet and run into the sea as fast as I can.
I haven’t seen De Rossi since Monday. The fact that he hired me despite the situation with my documents, combined with his concern about me on Friday, makes me feel all sorts of strange things. Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems. I’m starting to detect an actual human being beneath his brutish shell.
I dunk my head under water and squeeze my eyes shut. I considered his offer to protect me for a brief moment in his office before I realized I could never take him up on it. For one, I don’t trust him enough to reveal my real identity, but more importantly, there is nothing he could do to keep the Garzolos off the island if they ever find out I’m here. Papà and Lazaro are ruthless killers. If they catch wind I’m here, they’ll gun down anyone in their way. No one, not even De Rossi, would be able to keep them away.
I need to be careful around him. He’s a smart guy. Observant and curious. The latter is a particularly dangerous trait for wealthy, powerful men to have. If he decides he wants to uncover the truth about Ale Romero, he has tools at his disposal to cause some serious damage. Ibiza is starting to work out for me, and I don’t want to be forced to leave. I should keep my distance, but instead, I want to see him again. Where has he been all week?
When I get back to the hostel, the receptionist waves me down. “Someone’s been calling for you.”
My stomach drops. Immediately, I assume it’s Papà. “Who?”
“Some guy named Ras. Told me to ask you to call him back as soon as possible.”
Oh, thank God. “Sure, can I try now?”
She hands me the phone, and I make a mental note to buy a cell phone now that I should be able to afford it. Ras picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?” I ask uncertainly.
“Romero, I’ve been calling the number you have on file for hours. Where have you been?”
“I went to the beach.”
“Next time, don’t disappear like that,” he grumbles. “We need help tonight with a big VIP booking. A bunch of our waitstaff went out to this shitty sushi joint on the northern side last night and came down with food poisoning. Can you cover?”
“What’s the job exactly?”
“Taking orders and serving drinks. It’s not rocket science.”
This might be an opportunity to show Ras I’d do well as a server. Vilde has been telling me that the servers in the VIP areas get paid really well because they get huge tips. “What time?”
“Now, Romero. You need to get trained first.”
“Jeez, okay. I thought you said it’s not rocket science. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Find Jessa when you arrive. She’ll bring you up to speed. Good luck.”
I doubt I’ll need much luck. Serving drinks to a bunch of partygoers can’t be that hard. Vilde’s been working the upstairs terrace bar since she started, and it’s been smooth sailing for her.
The first words out of Jessa’s mouth when I get to Revolvr make me reconsider. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to see some bonkers shit go down.”
She’s a tiny twenty-five-year-old from Canterbury-a small town in England-with a platinum blond bob and expressive dark brows. They move like little caterpillars every time she speaks. “You’ve got to keep your head on straight, all right? The Werners are renting three of the VIP sections, and those Germans love their orgies.”
I must have heard her wrong. “Orgies? Here?”
“Gods, no. We don’t have the right setup.” She waves at the space. “But this is their hunting ground. They invite whoever catches their attention up to the VIP area and then work them for a few hours to see if they’ll come to their yacht for the after-party.”
“And people go?”
“Course they do. Our job is to serve drinks quickly and keep everyone lubricated. I’ll be mixing the drinks, and you and the other two servers will be handing them out. Keep in mind, the Werners drop like a hundred Gs on each of these nights, so we need to make sure everyone’s having a good time.”
I pull at the neck of my T-shirt. “Sure.”
The Werners arrive an hour later with a large entourage, and whatever I imagined them to look like, it’s not this. They’re a stunning couple in their thirties. The woman’s a curvaceous redhead with abundant curly hair, and the man a blond-haired blue-eyed hunk who looks like he starts his days with hours at the gym. There’s an air of decadence around them, from the expensive clothes they both wear, to the glittering jewelry that adorns the woman’s wrists.