Chapter 32: When She Unravels: Chapter 32

I wake up late to find Damiano already gone. After we stripped the bed and changed the sheets in the middle of the night, it took me a while to get back to sleep, and now I’m groggy.

I blink at the clock hanging on his wall. It reads…half past noon.

Gemma’s class is at ten a.m., and accounting for the time difference, I might be speaking to my sister in just a few hours. Suddenly, I’m very awake. What am I going to say to her?

I hop out of bed, get myself dressed, and hurry downstairs. Martina is in the kitchen, cooking, and when she sees my harried appearance, she gives me a questioning look. “You look like you’re late for an exam. What’s going on?”

“Is your brother around?”

She shakes her head. “He left a few hours ago. I’m not sure where he went.”

Damiano should be here when I talk to Gemma. I him to be here. How quickly he went from the man I was trying to get away from to the man who’s support I crave.

Martina frowns at my anxious expression. “Sit down, Vale. I’ll get you some coffee.” She slides a plate of potato medallions topped with eggs and ham across the island. “

. Eat.”

I climb up on one of the stools—the one Vito sat on when him and Nelo came by—and grab a fork. The food is delicious, as always, and when Martina hands me an espresso, I drink it in one gulp. “Thank you,” I say.

She sits on the stool across from me. “What’s bothering you?”

I move the potatoes around the yolk. “I’m going to talk to my sister Gemma today.”

Martina sips on her own espresso. “Isn’t that a good thing? I thought you said you miss your sisters.”

“I do, I just…don’t really know what to say to her.” I meet Martina’s clear hazel gaze. “I feel guilty for leaving her in New York.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” she says. “There was no time for you to get her when we were running away. If we’d stopped, we may have been caught.”

I cross my feet at my ankles. “I know. There’s no way I could have gotten her out at that time, but maybe once I got you to the airport, I could have gone back for her.” The moment I say it, I realize it’s just a childish fantasy. I sigh. “To be honest, I’m not sure she would have even gone with me. I would have had to explain everything to her. You, Lazaro, and everything leading up to that moment.” My stomach twists. “My husband was a bad man, Martina.”

“I know,” she says quietly, looking down at her cup. She’s remembering things. Things she shouldn’t need to remember for my sake.

“The real kind, not the kind that warns you of how bad they are,” I say, alluding to yesterday’s conversation and giving her a soft smile.

She lifts her hand to hide her giggle and shakes her head. “Don’t tease me. I feel so stupid for how I reacted. I probably turned as red as a tomato.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. How likely are you to see him again?”

Her expression dims. “Not likely, I suppose.”

We eat for a while before Martina clears her throat. “Well, it doesn’t sound to me like you could have done anything differently about Gemma. You did the best you could in that moment. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Maybe. I just don’t know how to stop feeling guilty.”

“Is she happy in New York?”

The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what my sister wants, and she probably doesn’t either, because just like me, she’s been a puppet of Papà’s for as long as we’ve been alive, and she’s been fed lies about our family for equally as many years. I can’t let Papà marry her off to some monster like Lazaro.

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” I mutter and finish my breakfast.

We lounge around the living room and put on a movie, but I hardly pay any attention. When Damiano walks through the door, I jump to my feet. “Anything from Ras?”

His eyes grow soft when he sees Martina and I. “He texted me that he managed to get into the studio, and he’s waiting for her to arrive,” he says. “Let’s go to my office so that we’re ready for when he calls.”

It’s really happening. If Ras made it inside, there should be no reason for him not to find Gemma.

We leave Martina on the couch and close the door to his office behind us. He places his cell phone face up so that we can see the caller ID when someone calls and tugs me into his chest. I sink into him. It’s shocking how easy it is to accept his comfort, how natural it feels to yield to his touch. Can I really walk away from this when the time comes?

He nudges my chin up with his index finger and gives me a kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes narrow. “You’re tense.”

“It’s been a long time since she and I talked.”

He slides his hand down my arm. “She’s still your sister.”

When the phone starts buzzing, we both look at it. Damiano lets it ring once and then puts it on speaker.

“Ras?”

Why isn’t he answering? Did he get caught? Is that one of Gemma’s guards calling us?

“Yes.”

I suck in a breath. My God, that was the longest second of my life.

“Ras! Is Gemma with you?”

There’s a laugh as dry as the Sahara on the other end of the line. “She’s here, all right. Valentina, what

is wrong with your sister?”

Damiano and I exchange a look. “What do you mean? What ha—”

“Give me the phone, you maniac!”

That’s Gemma’s voice. My chest soars with relief. “Let me talk to her.”

Ras swears. “She’s got a few screws loose. She me.”

“You groped me.”

“I didn’t fucking grope you, you tiny psycho. Here, talk to your sister so I can get the hell away from you.”

“You’re the one who locked us in this dusty closet.”

There’s a rustling sound.

“Gemma,” I call out.

“Vale, is that really you?”

I can’t believe I’m talking to my sister. A ball gets lodged inside my throat, but I force the words past it. “Yes. Gem, it’s me.”

She makes a strangled sound. “Oh, Vale, you’re alive. We were so worried. I haven’t slept a full night since you left, and neither has Cleo. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. How much time do you have until your class starts?”

“Forget the class. I can skip it.”

Damiano places his hand on the small of my back and whispers, “No, she can’t.”

“You can’t skip your class,” I say. “No one can know we talked.”

“You have five minutes,”

Ras says, his voice coming out slightly muffled.

“How are you?” I need to know she’s okay before I can talk about anything else.

“Miserable since you left. Mamma’s gotten even more strict, and Cleo’s constantly at war with her. We’re only allowed to leave the house on prearranged outings, and nothing that would put us around a lot of people. Where are you?”

“I’m somewhere safe,” I tell her. “What about the Messeros? Are they still talking about marrying you off to them?”

“I’m engaged.”

My stomach drops. “No.”

“To Rafaele. The contract is already signed, but no date has been set.”

Despair feels like a cold trickle down my back. “How is he?”

“I don’t really know. We met once at that dinner I told you about. He was cold and uninterested. I didn’t think he wanted me, but after you ran, Papà made it happen somehow.”

I bring the heel of my palm to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Gem.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. It’s what Mamma always said would happen. Of course, Cleo’s already declared that if she doesn’t like her future husband, she’ll shoot him like you did.”

I huff an amused breath. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

“I told her she’d better have a sharper aim.”

Pinpricks travel up my arms. “What do you mean?”

“Lazaro survived. You know that, right?”

Suddenly, I feel light-headed. I sway for a moment before two hands steady me by my waist.

“Sit down,” Damiano says, leading me to a chair.

“I didn’t know,” I whisper into the phone.

“Why did you do it, Vale?”

There’s no time for lengthy explanations. I shut my eyes. “Lazaro was ordered by Papà to capture and harm an innocent girl, so I helped her get away. Her and I ran together. I’m safe now, but I can’t tell you where I am.”

“I don’t understand,” Gemma says. “Papà wouldn’t ask Lazaro to hurt some random girl. It doesn’t make sense.”

“He would, and he did. I swear on my life that he ordered it. I couldn’t let Lazaro do it.”

There’s a long silence on the other end. “You’re sure? Is someone making you say this?”

I can hear the skepticism in her voice. She’s loyal to our father and has her guard up, but I need her to believe me.

“Lazaro was abusing me,” I force out. “He made me do awful, horrible things. He’s evil, and Papà knows, but he married me off to him anyway. That saying we have about Papà always prioritizing our safety? It’s a lie. The only thing Papà prioritizes is power.”

Damiano’s hand curls into my shirt. “Three minutes, Vale,” he whispers.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gemma asks. Her voice trembles, and I think she’s crying.

“I couldn’t. Listen to me, one day, I’ll tell you everything, but we don’t have time now. I need your help.”

“Okay. What do you need?”

There’s no time to feel relieved. “That day at Belinda’s bridal shower, you told me something was going on with Papà. He increased everyone’s security detail. Has anything else happened since? Do you know what he was worried about?”

She takes in a deep breath. “After we found out from Lazaro you were gone, Papà lost it. He said you made a terrible mistake that the whole family would end up paying for. He called Lazaro an amateur for failing to accomplish a simple task that was given to him. Papà said he won’t be able to close the big deal he’s been working on, which means the truce is going to end. Mamma yelled at him to watch his tongue in front of me and Cleo, and he left. Since that night, he’s barely spoken to any of us. He spends all day in his office. I don’t even think he leaves it to sleep.”

“What deal?”

“I don’t know, but it had something to do with whatever Lazaro was supposed to do for him.”

“A deal with Sal,” Damiano mutters. “We already knew they were working on something.”

“Who is that?” Gemma asks.

“There’s no time to explain,” I say. “You said there’s a truce? With who?”

“With one of the other clans—the Riccis—but there’s no truce anymore. The week after you left, they killed Tito.”

Pain stabs through my gut. “My God, poor Tito…”

“They’re retaliating for something, but Mamma won’t give us any details. Still, she can’t hide the death of our cousin. We know something dangerous is going on. I think that’s why my engagement was so rushed. Papà needs allies.”

“One minute,” Damiano says.

“Gem, do you have any way to find out more?” I ask.

I can imagine her nibbling on her bottom lip as she considers my question. “Papà’s got a guard outside his office all the time now, so I haven’t been able to eavesdrop. But maybe I can try something to get the guard to leave his post tomorrow. It’s a long shot, but I might get something.”

“That’s good. Take the burner, hide it well, and call the number on it if you get anything. No one can know we talked, okay?”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Ras says.

Tears well up in my eyes again. “I love you. I miss you more than you can imagine.”

“I love you too. When I call you next, we’ll talk longer, okay?”

“Okay. Please, be careful.”

Damiano hangs up the call.

I place my palms on his desk and lean forward. My heart races like a pack of wild horses. I thought talking to my sister would make me feel better, but I was desperately wrong. It feels like my chest is about to split open.

Lazaro is still alive.

My husband—my tormentor—is somewhere right now, scheming how to find me. Fear wraps around me and squeezes all the air out of my lungs.

Damiano places his palm on my shoulder. “Vale, breathe.”

“He won’t stop until he gets me back,” I say.

Damiano kneels beside me and puts his hands on my thighs. His eyes glint with sharp conviction. “I promise you on my life he’ll never touch you again.”

I compel myself to believe him. Maybe with the entire Casalese arsenal at his disposal, I’ll be safe.

But first, he has to get that arsenal.

“We still don’t have enough information,” I say, dragging my hands down my face.

“No, you did well. We know your father is at war with another New York clan. It means he’s vulnerable. We can work with that.”

I suppose he’s right. “What could Papà possibly want badly enough to agree to execute a hit on Martina?”

Damiano’s expression grows tight. “In our business, it usually comes down to money or power.”

Even knowing what I now know, it’s hard for me to accept this truth. “How much money is enough to kill an innocent girl?”

Damiano purses his lips. “Probably less than you think.”