Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Amadeo grins a devious grin, and his gaze sweeps over me. “We’ll discuss fucking another time.” He turns his back to me to pour himself another whiskey. He’s showing me he’s not afraid of me.
“No. Give me that. I’m not fucking you. Either of you,” I say to Bastian too who seems to have lost interest because he’s swiping through his phone. “You’re not going to make me do that.”
Amadeo turns to study me for what feels like an unending moment. I feel myself begin to wilt under his scrutiny as I recall that article, the unnamed child who would be buried separately of its mother.
“It’s not real. It’s a fake engagement. That’s all,” I trip over my words needing to end this strange, frightening silence.
“There’s nothing fake about it, but if that makes it easier for you to get through the night, fine by me. Just be convincing.”
“Will you let Emma and me go? After you get what you want.” Because if Emma and I are together, we can get out together. Escape. Get away from this life once and for all.
Amadeo’s expression hardens, but apart from that, he’s unreadable. A glance at Bastian tells me I have his full attention again.
“We understand you’re used to people doing your bidding, but those days are over. You should learn that and learn it fast,” Amadeo says.
“She’s an innocent child,” I remind him.
“So was our sister,” Bastian says, all seriousness again. No hint of the taunting, arrogant man.
The photograph of the little girl plays before my eyes, and I see her eyes see how even as her cheeks dimpled with her smile, it didn’t touch the shadows inside them.
“So was my brother,” he continues. “So was I. So were you. Collateral damage. We are all that, to some extent, until we take control. Because we all grow up, don’t we? Your father’s words. He thought sons were dangerous. I don’t know if that’s quite right. I think daughters can be just as dangerous as sons, depending. We’ve discussed that often, haven’t we, brother?”
Amadeo nods. “One thing we do know is he made a mistake letting us live. Scarred and battered, irrevocably damaged, but alive. Because when you have nothing to lose, you are willing to risk everything.”
Dread creeps into my veins, making me wrap my arms around myself as I understand his meaning. Getting Emma out, having her with me, will be a temporary reprieve. But what choice do I have?
“If you agree, you’ll have our protection. No one will touch you or your sister.”
“But that protection has an expiration date. When you’re done with me, when you get what you want, that protection ends. Is that right?”
“How safe do you think either of you were or would be in your brother’s house now that Daddy is in the ground?” Amadeo asks harshly. “Have you ever wondered about his sudden death, by the way? He was a healthy, fit man, as I understood it at least.”
“My father had a heart attack.”
“Did he?” Bastian chimes in.
I can’t keep up. My brother may dislike me, hate me even, but he has no cause to hurt me. And what Amadeo is suggesting, that our father’s death wasn’t natural, that’s not right. My brother isn’t that kind of monster.
But the image of that little girl comes to mind again. Because there are worse monsters, aren’t there? The ones who hurt little girls.
I drop to a seat on the couch and set my hand on my forehead.
They have an agenda, I remind myself. I am their enemy. They will sow the seed of doubt. If I give them an opening, they will exploit it like he just did with Emma. I’m easy to read. He said so himself. He will use my love for my sister to get what he wants, no matter the cost to her or me. And creating doubt about my father’s illness, my brother’s loyalty, is part of his game. His agenda. I can’t forget that.
But I’ll do the same. If I see an opening, I’ll use it. And Bastian has given away his hand. He isn’t fully on board with what his brother wants. This is Amadeo’s plan.
“Your answer, Vittoria,” Amadeo says.
I look up at him, study his eyes, watch the storms churn. There’s that rage again, tightly controlled. For now. Fifteen years’ worth of rage.
We may have been collateral damage once, but they’ve taken control. They are no longer that. Me, though? I’m a means to an end. As is Emma.
“Vittoria. Your answer,” Amadeo drags me back to reality. None of this matters. What I’m thinking, understanding, it makes no difference. My hands are tied, and we all know it. So I decide. I decide to choose for myself rather than have them choose for me. To force me. And I make a mental note to dig for the rift between them. Because that is my way out. And that is what gives me the courage to nod my consent.