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Adalynn pushed back her chair. She didn’t stand immediately,
and Cassia found herself letting out the breath she was
holding. How perfectly strange, to feel bereft at the prospect of
&nb
sp; a stranger leaving. Was she really so lonely? Had she become
so dispirited?
“You never told me your name.”
“Charlotte,” Cassia lied.
Adalynn laughed, a sharp, high, mirthful sound. “Your real
name.”
Cassia knew she was a terrible liar. “Cassia,” she admitted.
Then, because she couldn’t help herself and honesty had
always been a sticking point with her, oddly enough, growing
up with a father who was a member of organized crime, she
added her last name. “Salvatore.”
Adalynn debated that, whether she believed it or not.
“You’re Italian?” she asked after a pause.
Cassia nodded. “I am.”
“But you don’t look Italian.”
“No, I know I don’t. I take after my mom. I have her hair
and eyes. My sisters both look like my dad. They’re older than
me.” She knew she should put a lid on the personal family
information, but it felt good to be able to say something
genuine. She had the strangest feeling that she could trust
Adalynn, and she didn’t come by that gut sensation often.
Cassia’s lips pressed tight, and shock filtered through her
veins as she thought about what she’d just said. I take after my
mother. Her mom, according to her father, had an affair and
was going to leave him for another man. She knew she could
never take her children, or she’d be hunted down. He’d come
