Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
For a long while, Celenia and I clung to each other as we tried to make sense of this new world, one without our mother.
But then she started to find comfort in the arms of boys instead of me, leaving for days or weeks at a time despite my—and our family's—demands she come back to the barrio.
Celenia had always been pampered, had been coddled, and as such, she'd developed a stubborn streak she had gotten too old to work out of her.
Eventually, she moved out of our somewhat crowded home.
And after a particularly nasty fight over one of the many men who had been salivating over her—that had been old enough to be her father—I had made the impulsive decision to leave, to head back to what had been my homeland, to finish my degree.
I think a part of me always figured I would go back. When Celenia was older, when she was more interested in things like family, like sisterhood. When she'd gotten her wild out.
But I guess I just never got around to it.
We kept in touch via email and text and missed voicemails.
But she never asked when I would be back.
I never volunteered it either.
And then I had gotten that call.
The one that changed everything.
The one that had me on a plane, my heart in my throat, my mother's words in my head once again.
Beauty is a curse.
I couldn't help but wonder if there had been some truth in her words. If Celenia almost unfathomable beauty had gotten the attention of evil men.
And as each and every day passed, it seemed more and more likely that was exactly what had happened.
"Romy?" Luca's voice called, making me snap out of my trip down memory lane. Bittersweet though it was, I was sad to be pulled back to the present. Where my sister was caught in predatory hands. And I couldn't shake the guilt at not being around to try to stop it.
"Yeah?"
"We're here," he explained, making me look out the window to see the walls of the garage.
"Oh."
"I know I can't tell you not to worry about your sister. But we are going to find her, okay?"
A part of me was starting to doubt it. Even with the new help. Even with better resources.
I had promised myself, when I had made it home to ask around town about her, that I would never give up, never lose hope.
But this deflated sensation in my chest felt a lot like defeat.
"I bet every family of every trafficked person says that. I wonder how many are actually right," I murmured, looking out the windshield, feeling the burn of tears at the backs of my eyes.
"Sweetheart, you're tired. You've got to be hungry. You don't mean any of this. Let's get you inside, fed, and then get you to bed. You'll feel less defeated in the morning. And maybe by then my men will have answers for you," he added, making me turn to find his eyes on me, swearing I found kindness there, compassion for me and my situation.
It seemed strange and against everything I believed about criminals and morals that I would find comfort in a mafia underboss, that he would be a voice of reason in an impossible situation.
"You're probably right," I agreed, not sure when the last time I ate something decent was. And I hadn't gotten a full night of sleep in over a week, believing that in doing so, I could be missing something important.
There were advantages to working with someone else, even if it meant giving up control of the reins for a bit. Especially if the hands I was placing them in were more skilled than my own, knew how to handle them more successfully.
There would be no ball dropping just because I got an extra hour of sleep. More eyes would be on the situation even when I wasn't around than there had been when it was all on me.
"Michael will be back with the supplies soon. Then you can eat. Then get some sleep. Come on," Luca invited, climbing out, moving around the SUV before I could even reach for the door handle, pulling it open for me.
I'll admit it.
I froze.
Just completely sat there a bit awestruck.
Because I'd never had a man go out of his way to open a door for me. Actually, I wasn't sure I'd ever had a man pull a car door open for me period.
But that wasn't enough for Luca Grassi.
Oh, no.
This man went ahead and reached his hand out to me, waited for me to place mine in it, gently helped me out of the car even though I was clearly capable of doing so myself.
Maybe I should have objected to it, bristled because I didn't need help.
But that wasn't how I felt right then.
I felt almost, I don't know, honored.