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The poor girl beside Father Eugene looks enamored with him, and I wonder if he’s already done something to her. Brainwashed her into joining the convent for the rest of her life. The graying hair at his temples and the crinkles of his skin at the corners of his eyes make me cringe. Not because of his age, but because in those orbs are malice and sin. He offers a smile, teasing sweet redemption, which I know will never come.
“Yes, I have, Father Eugene,” I lie, lowering my eyes to the ground, not wanting to meet his leering glare any longer. When I told my father I didn’t like this man, all Arthur did was chuckle and tell me my imagination was running away with me.
I know he doesn’t believe anything I say because he’s still angry about what happened with his knight in shining armor. Lance has worked for my father for years. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t around. But it was only when I turned sixteen that I took note of the man who was far too old for me.
“Giuliana,” Father Eugene calls to me, startling me from the memory of how much I miss Lance. There’s a part of me that is missing, and I’ll never feel whole without him in my life. But that feeling only reminds me that love is for fools. The emotion only makes you sick. It hurts to the point of breathlessness.
“I think I’ll want to visit my father one last time before I commit, Father,” I tell him, gripping my rosary beads so tight they bite into the soft skin of my palms.
A smile on the old man’s face tells me that he wants me to stay. I don’t know if I’m allowed to visit home, but in his response, I have my answer. “I think it’s best that we ask your father to come here to say goodbye, since I will need to speak with him about your options,” he offers with a satisfied smirk.
“I thought perhaps—”
“You’re here, and I’m certain Arthur would like to see where you’ll be living. Since his previous visit was merely to the grounds, I’d like to give him a full tour. And advise him that he’s always welcome.”
I want to laugh at that. My father wouldn’t give a shit if I were living in a sty. He’s more concerned about the Tabella Della Morte — his league of murderers — and the next piece of ass he’ll be fucking.
I know my father far too well. Even though he’s hidden a lot from me, I’m not stupid. Growing up with a man who runs an organization like the Tabella Della Morte, I’ve become accustomed to his lies, and to snooping when he’s not at home.
Our house was nothing short of palatial, but I knew all the hidden corners, dungeons, and corridors under the house. My father enjoyed sneaking things that he wanted under the radar. The dungeon where he would take his women, the left wing of the mansion which was always off limits to me, and the office. His office.
“Okay,” I tell him, not wanting to stir up trouble, but I’ll find a way to escape, to go home. To see Lance once more, since he’s never come for me, never tried to find me, but all I want is a proper goodbye.
Tears sting my eyes when I think about it. When I realize I’ll have to say goodbye to the man I love. I feel the stupid muscle in my chest crack. I shouldn’t feel so bad. It’s been two long years, and he’s never even made contact. I’ve concluded that it means he’s moved on. Perhaps I wasn’t special to him, merely a plaything for his amusement.
Unless . . .
No.
My father wouldn’t have him killed. Lance Knight is his best assassin; he’d never hurt him. But then again, I thought my father wouldn’t hurt me, and he forced me to live in a convent because of his anger.
“I’m going to see if Sister Lyssa has anything for me to help with.” I take the girl in once more, hoping she doesn’t fall prey to his words. I offer a nod and bow to both the young girl as well as Father Eugene who stares at me for a moment before responding with a tip of his head.
The sun is higher in the sky now, making the thick air less stifling. From here, the church looks beautiful. With a large white cross on the wall, the stained-glass windows perched perfectly to catch the light from the early morning sun as well as the setting blaze seems almost magical.
But then I glance at the looming metal fencing that surrounds the convent and church, and I wonder if I’ll be a prisoner within the confines of this place until I die. Or if I could escape. Runaway and try to make a life for myself away from New Orleans and San Antonio, where I am right now.
Nobody would know me. I could start fresh. The only problem is I have no money, no way of getting work unless someone takes pity on me and offers me a menial job. But then I’d be earning practically nothing, and I’d have to survive on that.
No.
There’s no longer a choice.
I’m stuck here forever.
A nun. A child of the church. Married to a God, I don’t believe in.
Lance
The mansion is deathly silent when I stalk through the doors. I’m sure the guys are in the dungeon, either torturing an asshole who needs to give up information or fucking whores they’ve brought back from Bourbon Street.
Either way, I need to stay away from the bar I walked out of. I wanted to go back. Every part of me needed the release, but I couldn’t bring myself to have another woman on my dick tonight.
Three days from now is Giuliana’s birthday, and I have no fucking idea where she is. When Arthur stole her from me, he sent her away, and ever since, I’ve called in every favor I had. None of them have found her unless they’re afraid of my boss who’d most probably have them killed if he found out they were helping me.
I know she’s still in America because I found her passport in her bedroom when I searched through it. My mind has run wild trying to figure out where he would have stowed her away like a dirty little secret.
The question that’s plagued me for two long years is — where is she?
