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She scoffs. “I’ve been better.”
“Dumb question.” Tears stream down my cheeks as Salvatore steps closer, brushing his thumb across my cheek. My eyes drift shut as I anchor myself, focusing completely on the feeling of his hands against my skin.
“Celia, I need you to do whatever they say or else…” Her voice trails off, a rustling sound in the background. “Please. Not again. Please,” she begs, and my chest heaves as I clutch the phone tightly in my hands.
Please, God. Don’t let them hurt her. Not again.
“I know, sis. I know. I’m working as fast as I can, but these guys don’t trust anyone. It’s been a lot harder to get close to them than I thought,” I plead, tears flowing freely down my cheeks as I’m suddenly wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. All three men are pressed around me, using their bodies in a feeble attempt to protect me from what my mind already knows is coming.
“Liar,” the voice says before the sound of Willa’s tortured screams filter through the line.
“No. No. No.” I hiccup, shrinking down into a tight ball to keep the pain at bay as long as possible. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“Get us the information we need, or your sister dies. The clock is ticking.”
The line goes dead, and I crumble. Blood-curdling screams slip through my lips as I let go of all my pain, giving it to the three men beside me. Soothing words of encouragement and pleading for me to calm down and tell them what happened reach my ears, but I can’t break free.
Someone grips my chin tightly, tugging it toward them. “Celia, open your eyes.”
I follow Salvatore’s instructions, opening my eyes and focusing on him. He grips my hand in his, placing it on his heart.
“Feel the beat of my heart under your hand. Breathe along with me; count the breaths as my chest rises and falls.”
I follow his every instruction and slowly calm down. The sense of panic eases away just enough for me to focus on the men surrounding me. All three of them stare at me, their concern written all over their faces.
“What did they say?”
“They’re going to kill my sister unless I get the information about you three.” I sniffle, leaning forward and burying my nose in Salvatore’s chest. “But they said that time is ticking…”
I have an undisclosed amount of time to get information about the three men standing in front of me for a voice on the other end of the line. I have no idea who wants this information or what information they’re looking for.
But I think I may be falling in love with them.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
CELIA
“Where are they?” I mumble into the empty dining room, checking my watch for the millionth time. After keeping me here, with no contact from the outside world, the least they can do is show up to dinner on time.
My boys promised they’d be home for dinner by six o’clock tonight, but they’re late. I’ve been planning this dinner for days, waiting for the perfect moment to spring this idea on them. But I can’t do any of that if they don’t show up.
Back to the drawing board.
It’s been eighteen months. Eighteen motherfucking months and not a word from the voice or Mr. Black. No phone calls, carrier pigeons, nothing. You’d think after they warned me time was running out, they’d be more eager to talk to me, but nothing. Matteo and Antonio have been working day and night to find out as much information as they can about Mr. Black, hoping that by finding him, they can find Willa. But nothing. Not a single lead in eighteen months.
“Not coming?” takes a seat at the end of the table.
When I didn’t show up for work that night, Lyra immediately came looking for me. She called the number listed on the Genoveses’ membership application, demanding to know what they did to me. Oh, they had done something to me all right, but not what she had imagined.
It took a while, but I managed to calm her down enough that she wasn’t ready to call the police. I had hoped she’d leave it at that, but she demanded to see me with her own two eyes. Reluctantly, Salvatore gave her their address and promised to explain everything to her when she arrived. She arrived, guns blazing, demanding to know what was going on. Too bad I don’t have a better answer for her now than back then.
Ever since then, Lyra has been popping in occasionally.
“Too bad?” I groan, pushing back from the table. “How the hell am I ever going to get out of this house at this rate?”
Salvatore wasn’t kidding when he said I wasn’t leaving the house. I haven’t stepped foot off these grounds since the night I received my last phone call from the men holding my sister hostage. I’m not a hostage, per se. I can spend as much time as I want in the library, living vicariously through the characters in the books, but that’s the only escape I get.
