She shakes her head.
I let out a loud sigh. “Fine. I’m confident I’ll be able to get it out of your father when I tell him I have his precious daughter.”
My words hit her way harder than I expect them to, and she starts to weep. Tears roll down her cheek and fall onto her shirt.
Seeing her so upset makes me want to die.
She’s breaking me down, and I know I can’t show it to her, but in the moment, I can’t resist. I tug her into my chest. She bucks against me for a short moment before giving in and crying into my shirt.
“I can’t go back. I can’t,” she says between sobs. “Please, please don’t do this.”
I’m fucking confused. She’s acting like me sending her back is a death sentence, but there’s no way that’s true. She’s the capo’s daughter. Runaway or not, she’s valuable to him. He’s not going to harm her.
I need to figure out what I’m missing.
When I run my hand down her spine, she nuzzles her face into my chest. That makes me feel something… Fuck. It’s not a sexual thing. Pity? Concern?
I pull away. “Tell me everything you know about what happened to Mari.”
Her teary face makes me hate myself. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. But you have to promise me you won’t send me back to New York.”
Can I promise her that? I don’t know. I have no idea what I’ll need to do after she tells me her secrets, so for now I have no choice but to lie. The lie doesn’t come quite as easy as I expect it to. I clear my throat. “If you give me what I need, I won’t send you back.”
She stares at me, but my face is an unreadable mask. If she’s looking for any hints that I’m lying, she won’t find them.
Finally, she sniffles and nods. “My husband had your sister in the basement when I got home that day. She was knocked out when I got there, but she came about pretty quickly. I asked him why my father ordered him to take her. He said it was just a job. A favor. He said she was born with the wrong last name.”
The light in the room dims as outside the sun sinks past the horizon. I step forward, close enough to peer into her eyes. She’s not lying. Goddamn it, she’s not lying.
“The wrong last name?” I whisper. There’s a buzzing tension in my body, an aggression sparked by her hint and where it leads. “That’s what he said?”
“Yes. He called her a little Casalese mouse and said she had the wrong last name.”
My eyes widen.
“I swear, I don’t know any more,” she says.
It doesn’t matter. She’s given me all the answers I need.
I know who’s responsible for my sister’s abduction.
VALENTINA
Damiano steps away from me and looks down to the ground, deep in thought. I thought the meager information I had would hardly be enough for him, but maybe I was wrong. For him, there is a hidden meaning in what I’ve said.
I wipe the wetness off my face, and my bladder throbs.
“I need to pee,” I say.
He sucks in a breath and levels me with a contemplative look. Then he nods.
“Bathroom is through the door behind you,” he says. His voice is strangely flat.
My wrists are red. I start to rub them and notice Damiano watching me. He looks away. “Go.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I duck through the door, lock it behind me, and survey the space as I empty my bladder. Crap. There aren’t any windows. I wasn’t particularly hopeful there’d be a way to get out of here, but having my suspicions confirmed stings none the less.
He found out my name. I’m so mad at myself I want to scream. Why did I leave my passport in such an obvious place? I could have hidden it better.
No, I’m probably just deluding myself. If I had to guess, he sent Ras to search for it, and if Ras hadn’t found it in my mattress, he’d have dug up the entire apartment. I should have gotten rid of it when I could.
It’s too late to think of that now. Damiano knows who I am, which means I’m one phone call away from being found. I need to find a way out of here before Damiano makes it.
I finish my business and wash my hands. There’s no mirror here, nothing that could be used as a kind of weapon. Maybe I could get creative with the toilet paper. I make a grimace at the thought. I doubt I’d have a chance against the massive man outside even with a shard of glass.
The memory of my little meltdown when he told me he’d call Papà sends a surge of frustration through me. God, why have I lost my ability to keep it together? All of Mamma’s training really was for nothing. He found a weak spot when I started to bawl. I need to keep myself in check. The more I show him, the more ammunition he gets.
He’s pacing the length of the room when I emerge. I take advantage of his distracted state and glance around for a way out, but the grate on the window looks exceptionally sturdy, and beside the discarded rope, the room is bare.
Suddenly, Damiano stops and turns to me. “Come here,” he demands. His expression is thunderous. Clearly, he still hasn’t shaken off whatever my information revealed to him.
I move to the furthest corner from him and cross my arms over my midriff. “What are you going to do with me?”
His gaze darkens. “What did I tell you about following my orders?”
“You promised you won’t send me back,” I remind him.
“Do you think my memory is that bad?” he asks. “You’re staying here for now. Now stop arguing and come here.”
When I stay frozen in place, he frowns and stalks over to me. In his hands, he still has the rope.
“Please don’t string me up again,” I beg.
He reaches for my arms, and I put them behind me and back up until my shoulder blades hit the wall.
“I’m serious. My wrists hurt.”
“Do you think I care about where you hurt?” His voice is rough, but he refuses to meet my eyes.
I’m not sure I believe him.
“I won’t run. I swear,” I say.
“We both know that’s a lie.” He places his palm on my shoulder and turns me around, pressing his hips against mine when I try to resist.
I huff against the wall. “Damn you.”
“I’m not going to string you up,” he says even as I feel the rough lick of the rope against my forearms. He ties it higher than before, not touching the raw skin. “We’re having dinner.”