Chapter 93 A blessing and a curse.
CHAPTER 93
A blessing and a curse.
SCARLETT – POINT OF VIEW
“So, should we shake hands or what?” He grins at me, helping me to my feet.
I love his smile so much. He always looks like a child when he smiles. An innocent child that the chaos and pain of life haven’t touched.
I giggle at his question, “We can make a run for it?”
“Nah, let’s just kiss.” His eyes twinkle, and he pulls me to him. He holds me steady and kisses me softly, sliding his tongue into my mouth. My toes curl, and I whimper against him as desire runs through me. Need pounds in my ears, and I hold him tightly, as if we are to merge our bodies.
“It’s our wedding, and you’re making out? Make it make sense.” Adeline’s voice pulls us apart.
Roman doesn’t stop holding me. He isn’t smiling anymore, and his face is tense. I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking it too. The no-sex deal sounds wonderful and very important, of course, but how functional can it be? Truly? I need him always. Touching myself to the thought of him won’t do anymore, and I want more, but I know it’s important. He’s trying to prove something, and I won’t make it hard for him.
I reluctantly step away from him and turn to the newlywed.
“Can we help you?” I ask calmly, teasing.
“Step away from the man.” She says dramatically, “No face-eating allowed at our wedding.”
I grin and place my hand on Roman’s chest. “Really? He’s mine, though, and I can do whatever I want with him.”
She rolls her eyes and reaches for me, “We have so much to discuss, and the men want to discuss the stock market. How boring.”
I let her pull me away and blow Roman a kiss before leaving with her.
“The way you pretend to be a dumb bimbo is so obvious., I state, glancing at her.
“You only see through it because you were trained how to, in Budapest.” She tells me, casually mentioning Budapest as if it isn’t a top secret.
I don’t respond. I follow her. We sneak into the mansion. She’s obviously avoiding the fuss of being newlyweds. She also wants a moment to herself before diving into uncharted waters. Somehow, I have become her escape, some sort of, and I don’t blame her for it. It’s rare to meet someone with the same psychological makeup as you, someone who was raised the same, trained to be a killer while also being nurtured to be a mother. How confusing.
“This is my bedroom.” She opens a door, and we step into the cold and dark bedroom.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” She grins, skipping, and I follow her.
We step out onto the balcony, and I gasp. Her balcony is a beautiful garden, with stunning flowers decorating the entire walls and railings. There’s a large couch and a small shelf of contemporary romance books.
“This is beautiful.” I gush, settling on the couch and smelling the flowers, “How am I just seeing this?”
“Dad chose this bedroom for me. It’s effortless for me to see the entire estate from here, but no one can see me from outside. I am nestled in the comfort of the mansion, protected.” Her last words fall flat, and she sits beside me.
She reaches behind the shelf and reveals an expensive bottle of wine.
“To the fatherless women.” She smiles at me sadly, her eyes misty.
I take the wine from her, carefully open it, then drink straight from the bottle and hand it back to her. She does the same, and we spend the evening passing the bottle.
“Are you going to tell me how you knew I was in Budapest?” I break the silence.
She looks at me, “I thought you wouldn’t ask.”
I kick off my shoes and tuck my legs, “I remember every face there, even the ones that went through so much trouble to disguise themselves. How don’t I remember you?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to be there. You were seventeen, and I was fifteen, too young to be there. I’d just turned fifteen. Dad wanted me to be better. Vincenzo had gone through all the training. He was a perfect heir, but Dad didn’t believe in ignoring his daughters. I was his last child, and he wanted me to be strong. Gianna was disappointing him, failing classes, sneaking around with boys, drinking and smoking. She was twenty then. He wanted me to be better.” She articulates carefully, then takes another swing of the bottle.
“I was scrawny and girly. I didn’t want to learn how to fight. I wanted to stay here, at home, with my flowers and my books. He sat me down and told me he wouldn’t be here forever. He said being born as his daughter was a blessing and a curse. I needed to know how to protect myself, how to be strong, how to hold a punch. Then, I told him to train me, but there was a limit to how well he could train me. He told me to pick a division apart from training, something I wanted to be fluent in, and I chose technology.” She smiles softly, even as her eyes gloss over.
“He was surprised, but supported me. Mom threw a fit. She didn’t want her fifteen-year-old daughter in Budapest, but later agreed. So, I went there. I was placed in a different room. I spent twenty hours a day working, learning, and reading, while I spent the weekends learning how to fight. He got me a personal trainer. He made sure I was taken care of. He loved me, and he gave me the greatest ammunition ever. Now, I’m twenty-four, married to the don of La Cosa Nostra while holding so much more power than my husband.” She smiles bitterly, and I nod, feeling her pain because it’s mine, too.
I have so many questions, but she already knows that.
“There are a lot of things happening that you shouldn’t know. Call it protection.” She warns.
“Tell me about the Child trafficking. I want to help.” I insist.
She sits up, “It’s a network, Scarlett. They are everywhere, picking up children from the street, selling them to the highest bidder. How do we even stop them? I sit on a shitload of information, but now, I’m not quite sure I can give this flash drive to the people I work with because I don’t trust them anymore. Emiliano is a powerful bastard with people in high places, the people he sells the children to, and the ones who work for him. Through this flash drive, I’ll be able to determine how far back his operation goes and what they actually do to …”
She stops speaking and tenses up immediately.
I listen and hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
“We’re not alone.”