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Gabby burst through the school gate, threw herself at Sam’s knees.
“How was your day, my pet?” Sam asked, hugging her.
“Very good. But I forgot I had sharing today. I didn’t take anything.” Gabby’s eyes, a lovely green-gold, darkened briefly with emotion before brightening. “But then Mademoiselle said we could tell a story, and I told a very funny story about a mouse that lived in Daddy’s pocket and the adventures the mouse has at Le Casino.”
Sam blanched, set Gabby on her feet. “You told a story about your papa at the casino?”
“No, Sam, not Papa, but the mouse in Papa’s pocket.”
“And did the mouse stay in your papa’s pocket?”
“No. He played cards with Papa at the casino. But he was a very clever little mouse and he didn’t lose. Not like Papa. And everyone wanted the mouse because the mouse won so much money he bought us a big new house and a car just for you and me so we could go driving whenever we want.” Gabby took a breath and beamed up at Sam. “Isn’t that a good story?”
Sam felt sick inside. “You are a very clever girl, Gabriela Grace, but you know that, don’t you?”
Gabby just laughed, and they walked hand in hand back to the villa, but the closer they came to the villa, the more Sam worried. How was she going to break the news to Gabby that they were leaving? How was she going to tell her they were going to live apart from Johann in a country Gabby had never even been to?
Oh God, none of this was easy.
And reaching the old town villa not far from the Place de Casino, it only got harder, as parked in front of the villa was Cristiano’s red sports car.
Cristiano, dressed in the same black slacks and thin cashmere sweater he’d worn earlier, appeared as they entered the house. “Good afternoon, Baroness.”
Gabby looked at him, not at all shy. “Who are you?”
Sam struggled to think of an answer and it was Cristiano who smoothly replied, “A friend of the family’s.” He extended his hand to Gabriela. “I’m Cristiano Bartolo. What’s your name?”
“Gabriela Grace van Bergen.”
“A big name,” he said dryly.
“I’m a big girl,” she answered smartly.
Cristiano’s smile turned wry. “Out of the mouth of babes.” He turned to Sam. “I see you’ve packed.”
Again her heart sank. “Yes, but I—”
“Is Papa here?” Gabby interrupted, tugging on Sam’s hand.
“He’s upstairs sleeping,” she answered woodenly, as Gabby dropped her hand and charged up the stairs. How could Cristiano persist with this? Maybe he wasn’t a gentleman, and maybe he wasn’t merciful, but cruel?
With Gabby gone, Sam took a step toward Cristiano, dropping her voice. “You can’t do this to her. Please think it through, please try to see it from her perspective. I’m the closest thing to a mother she knows.”
Suddenly Gabby was running down the stairs again, her long dark braids flying. “Sam, Sam! Papa’s gone. He’s not in his room. He’s not even here.”
Sam wasn’t sure if she felt fear or relief. Unbuttoning her coat she faced the stairs where Gabby was charging down. “Maybe he went for a walk.”
“No, Sam, he’s gone. His clothes, his coat, everything’s gone.” Gabby jumped down the last three steps, going forward to her knees before catching herself with her hands. She righted herself, stood. “He must have gone on a trip without us.”
Relief, fear, hope, panic—they pummeled Sam one by one. If Johann was gone, then Sam couldn’t leave Gabby behind. But if Johann was gone, and Cristiano didn’t want Gabby, then Gabby would be placed in government care until Johann was found.
Stricken, Sam looked up, straight into Cristiano’s face. This was his fault, Cristiano Bartolo’s fault. He was the devil himself, smiling, playing cards, buying drinks for Johann. Sam knew he’d deliberately gotten Johann drunk, too, upped the stakes, challenged Johann, pushing him out of his comfort zone until Johann was playing over his head.
But then, Johann always played over his head.
Sam couldn’t look away from Cristiano’s hard impassive features. He looked perfectly neutral, even indifferent. And she may have disliked him before, but she hated him now. Hated his confidence, his arrogance, the power he thought he had over them.
