Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Nothing.” I brush past her and stand on the balcony.
She joins me and we look at the city together in silence. Finally, she says, “Just one meeting. That’s all I ask. I don’t have any family anymore and I feel like I’ve lost everything back home. No more job, no more apartment, nothing. I need something.”
My fingers dig into the railing.
I know what it feels like to lose. There are so many names on my lips each night. So many faces in my dreams, all of them gone. All lost to the war against the Italians.
I know what it feels like to need something to feel normal again.
“One meeting,” I say quietly and don’t look at her. “That’s all, one meeting, and then you’re finished. I’m taking you back to the States. Do you understand?”
“One meeting,” she echoes. “Thank you, Peter.”
“Be up early tomorrow.”
She turns and heads inside. I glance over my shoulder and watch her drink down her wine and place the glass into the sink before wrapping her arms around herself. She seems so small and I wonder how the fuck anyone hurt her like those Russian bastards did. How could anyone hit a woman like that? Hurt a woman like that? It makes my body ache, thinking about the pain she’s been through.
I won’t let her go through more hurt if I can help it.
One meeting. Tomorrow morning, she can see her sister for the first time, and then I’m taking her back home.
Chapter 4
Adrienne
I’m nervous. It’s strange, but I’m nervous. I don’t know how Reina’s going to react to seeing me, but I get the feeling Peter thinks it won’t go the way I hope.
But what do I want?
Maybe having a sister would be nice. A girl that shares the same general experiences as me. Not exactly, but close enough. The same mother, the same half-genes. Maybe we’ll even look alike.
I don’t expect her to like me. I don’t think she’ll want anything to do with me.
I’m still willing to take the chance.
Peter seems distant in the morning. Last night, for a few minutes, he looked at me like he wanted something more, like he wanted to pin me down and devour me. There was a hunger in his eyes when I took his glass and drank from it, like he wanted to be that glass. Like he wanted his lips on my bare skin. That night, I dreamed about him kissing me from my toes up to my tongue, the most intense and detailed dream I’ve ever had. When I woke up, I found him shirtless in the kitchen and almost thought the dream might be real.
Instead, he said, “Get dressed, princess. We’re leaving in twenty.”
Now we’re sitting in the back of a cafe. It’s nearly empty, which is rare for Athens. The girl behind the counter looks bored, and Peter ignores me as he drinks his coffee and eats his pastry. I sip mine and watch people walk past the door outside through the big front windows. I imagine what my sister looks like and end up picturing a younger version of my mother. My chest aches, and I miss my old life, even if it wasn’t always good, but I can’t go back. There’s no going back.
“Your leg’s jostling the table. Stop bouncing.” Peter glances at me over his drink. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Wouldn’t you be nervous if you were meeting a sibling for the first time?”
“I don’t think I would.”
“Liar, you’d be nervous.”
“She’s not going to like you. Reina doesn’t like anyone.”
“And how do you know that? Everyone likes someone, even you?”
That gets a small smile from him. “And who do I like?”
“Yourself mostly,” I mutter and he laughs.
“Reina is used to working alone. No, listen, you’re right that I don’t really know her, but I know her type. I’ve met her type a dozen times. She has a shitty, mostly empty apartment in Marseille and she sleeps there maybe a dozen nights a year. She spends half her life on trains moving around Europe for her employers, taking meetings with men like me, negotiating contracts, doing dirty work, stealing things, hurting people, things like that. She might have colleagues, but she doesn’t have friends. How could she when she’s never in a place for more than a week or two? You grew up with stability, with normal parents. She didn’t.”
I chew on my lip and wonder if he’s right about her. Maybe the details are wrong, but the big picture? I haven’t given much thought to her childhood, and I wonder if she resents our mother for the way she was abandoned. She might even resent me for having both my parents stick around.
Although I’m not sure she would’ve loved living in my household. My life was far from ideal.
“She’s still my sister. Even if she hates me, I want to meet her, just this once.”