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“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, almost looking concerned.
“It means she can either comply, or I’ll have to take measures,” I explain simply. Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. Of course, I’d much rather Riley be on board with what I have planned for her future.
“What sort of measures?” He frowns because he knows the things I’m capable of. I wasn’t born with a conscience.
“She’s the one I’ve chosen, Gioele, and I’m used to getting what I want.” I let him be the judge.
“You realize this girl is a missing person?” he points out. “You took a huge risk taking her to Maria’s place. Who knows who else is looking for her? If the authorities found out you have her, it would raise questions and maybe even warrant an investigation. Not only would they take her away, but you and your brother risk getting locked up, too. You could lose everything.”
“No one's taking her from me.” I slam my fist hard onto my desk, angry at myself for being so foolish. Gioele holds his hands up defensively, sensing the switch in my mood.
“I don’t need council on my decision, Gio. The reason I’m talking to you is because I need to know that if anything happens to me, she’ll be taken care of.”
“You want me to make her a benefactor?” he asks, sounding even more shocked.
“The child she bears me will be the benefactor,” I explain. “But Riley must be provided for. I want an account set up under a fake name. She’ll need a passport and a new identity, of course.”
Gioele nods his head in understanding.
“But she can't know about it, not unless something happens to me. This isn’t her escape. It will be a reward for her loyalty if I can no longer be with her.”
“Okay, but you should know, I think you're crazy.” The old man shakes his head as he pulls out his notebook and jots down everything I’ve asked him to do.
“And the brother? You could have him taken care of. The fewer people out there looking for her, the less chance anyone will find her. People soon become forgotten about,” he sighs helplessly. Unfortunately, Gioele knows from experience that his last statement is true.
I shake my head and focus back on what’s important now.
Riley loves her brother. Even if she never found out that I was the one who had him killed, I don’t think I could live with knowing I’d taken someone special from her. It takes real hatred to do something like that, or some might argue real love.
Either way, her brother won’t pay the price for my decision. Not unless he decides to interfere with it.
“Well, if that is all. I should try to get myself on another flight.” Gioele closes his briefcase and stands up. “I’ll have this taken care of in the next couple of days,” he assures me, nodding his head to me before he exits my office and leaves me in peace.
The air seems a little lighter once he’s gone, and I look at the clock above the door and realize I still have two whole hours before I sit down with Riley and offer her a new life. I hope she’s sensible enough to take me up on it. Because the more I sit and think about it, the more I realize I want Riley’s happiness a damn sight more than I do her suffering.
I make sure I’m a few minutes early when I step out onto the lawn. There’s a table set up for two people by the edge of the lake, and I smile to myself when I step toward it and see the vase of roses in the center of it.
The side to Rafe I saw this morning has made my heart skip and my head giddy. And of all the things I expected him to be capable of, playful wasn’t one of them. I’m really hoping that he’ll be in the same mood for our lunch date.
I take a seat and wait for him. All the food Sylvia has laid out looks delicious, and there's far too much here for only two people.
When I hear the gravel behind me start to crunch, I peer over my shoulder and see Rafe making his way toward me. He’s dressed in gray suit trousers, and the black shirt that’s unbuttoned to his chest makes him look irresistible.
“Afternoon.” The kiss he places on my cheek before he sits down causes my stomach to flip.
“How was your meeting?” I ask, taking my napkin from the table and laying it across my lap.
“Productive,” he answers, focusing his attention on the items he’s started to add to my plate with the tongs. He stops when he notices me staring at him.
“I can serve myself you know,” I inform him, just in case he’s forgotten.
“Yes, I’m sure you can, but these are the things I want you to eat,” he tells me before setting back to work.
When he’s done, I pick up my fork while he concentrates on selecting things for his own plate.
“So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?” I ask, desperate to know what it is he wants to discuss with me.
“I’d prefer it if you ate first.” His eyes fall to my plate as if prompting me.
