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I avoid his stare when I answer and run a hand through my disheveled chestnut hair. “Not too well. I think I’m still adjusting.”
“That’s to be expected. I’m still looking for the best therapist for you, and I hope to have someone by the end of the holidays. Speaking of which, is there anything special you would like to do for Christmas?” I stare in irritated amazement at the man that made me crawl to him just theother day.
When I don’t answer, he sits on the bed beside me, hands me my espresso, and watches me intently as I drink the dark concoction. It has a bite, but the generous amount of half and half and something else I can’t place helps it go downsmoothly.
“Greta, I must apologize for my behavior the other day. I … wasn’t myself. I’ve been searching for you for so long, believing the worst.” He clenches his eyes shut and sighs heavily. “I thought I lost you, and for you to question me like that made all those fears come rushing forward again, and I snapped. I know you don’t remember right now, but that’s not who I am with you. And I’m truly sorry, my love.” He lifts my hand to place a delicate kiss on myknuckles.
Tears prick the back of my eyes at the sincerity in his voice, but I shake them away and gather my voice. “What do you mean you’re not like thatwithme?”
He smiles around my hand. “Ah, you caught that, did you? I suppose you will remember eventually.” He sighs again and places my handon my lap.
“Remember what?” I ask around the lip of my espresso cup.
“I manufacture and supply yachts for the rich and powerful, and not everyone I deal with is … on the right side of the law. In fact, most of our money comes from supplying yachts to criminal organizations or corrupt politicians that need more specialized watercraft.”
My stomach drops to my feet. “What do you mean by specialized?”
“Things like a panic room, holding cells, hidden and secure vaults for weapons and drugs. Playrooms.” He winks at the latter as though what he does is nothing but another day at the office instead of supplying criminals with the opportunity to trafficweapons.
Does he traffic people too?
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but at the last minute, I chicken out. Instead, asking, “You saidourmoney?”
He smiles and tucks a dark lock of hair behind my ear. “Yes, my love. You’ve helped develop inventive designs and ideas on how best to conceal our client’sproduct.”
Horror slams into me like a Mack truck, and my stomach sours further with disgust. The espresso threatens to revolt at the possibility of me being party to helping bring more devastation and death into this world is enough to make me sick. But then, a hard dose of reality hits me when I remember falling for another criminal not too long ago. One that ended up being so much worse in the end.
But was what I saw on that ledger real? Was any of it real?
While stuck in that institution, I would question if what I saw was right. Was Emiliano really dealing in flesh? My brain screams yes, but my heart… my gut says there’s more than meets the eye. Emiliano kept me out of his dealings for the most part. Still, my stomach tightens with the truth. Real or not, I was in love with acriminal.
“I can see your beautiful mind going round and round.” Sebastian brings my hand to his lips again. “Do you forgive me for my misdeeds the other day?” For an instant, my mind blanks on what he’s referring to when his eyes drop to my neck, reminding me. I swallow and nod mechanically. With my forgiveness, he smiles brightly. “Grazie, amore mio.” He kisses my forehead before grabbing the breakfast tray and placing it between us. “Enough of the bad. Let us have our breakfast, and then I have a surprisefor you.”
He brings the croissant to my lips, and I take a healthy bite. A moan slips from my lips when the warm butter mixes with the decadent dark chocolate in my mouth. Sebastian’s eyes darken and blaze with desire at my wanton food orgasm, and I have to look away from his piercingblue gaze.
“What surprise?” I ask around my bite of food.
He smirks at my unladylike behavior before answering. “A client of mine is holding his annual Christmas party tonight. So, I thought I would take you to get a new dress, and we can walk around the market while we’re out. Perhaps it will help you remember parts of our life together.” His eyes fill with hope, and I wonder if he’s right. And if so, is that what I want?
I find my spirits lifting and my own hope unfurling in my chest. Because if I can remember, perhaps I can get out of this mess and back home, and even find my sisters and repair our relationship. Or maybe I’ll find that my gut is right, Sebastian is full of shit, and everything I believe in having happened really did happen.
So, with an encouraging smile, I take another bite of my breakfast and answer with, “Sure.Why not?”
An hour later, we drive through the large gates with two hulking SUVs at our rear, and I find myself flashing back to the night Emiliano took me on a date. My chest aches, and tears threaten to fall when I remember how he held me on his lap at that restaurant. I fight back the tears and shake off the absurdity that I still feel something for the man who planned to sell me and had already probably sold hundredsof others.
But is it true?
We park in the vendor parking area, but no one dares stops us. Sebastian offers me his hand, and when I take it, he tucks my arm under his. To this Texas girl, it is freezing as we walk arm-in-arm down downtown Bolzano. Still, the wonder and beauty of the town, decorated and aglow with the Christmas spirit, has me smiling my first genuine smile since being thrust into this new reality. The city is illuminated with millions of twinkle lights, Christmas trees with the Nativity scene décor andBabbo Natalefigurines hanging from their branches, and hand-blown Murano glass bulbs glitter in the lights. We hit every stand and load up on chocolate, local foods, handcrafted decorations, and handmade knits. We listen to live music and watch little skits and plays being enacted. Our final stop is to buy me a dress for this evening’s party, a long sleeve Tom Ford number: classy with its fitted design, a boat neckline, a cowl open back, and a hem that hit just below my knees. But my favorite part of the dress is the faux leather material that gives it just the right amount of sass. I feel like a badass in it, strong and powerful. I know I will need some of that strength tonight.
As we walk back to the SUV, I ask about the party, and Sebastian explains that there will be many ofourclients attending and that no one knows about my “situation.” Seeing an opportunity to trip him up, I ask, “How am I supposed to pretend to know these people? You only told me about this party this morning, and you’ve told me nothing about them.”
Johnny-on-the-spot, he answers with, “This is the first time we’ve been introduced into Bolzano society together. Remember we met in Rome and spent the days following our courthouse wedding in the capital?” And with an encouraging embrace and a soft kiss to my lips, he says, “Be yourself, my love. Remember that we’re married, act accordingly, and everything willbe fine.”
I’m not so sure.
The drive back to his–our–house is filled with silence as I ponder how I will pull off pretending to love a stranger while contemplating a way to catch him in a lie. Because no matter how much I question my sanity, I can’t rid myself of the gut feeling that the life Sebastian presents as my own is the lie. Not the life with Emiliano’s amber eyes shining up at me from the piano as he poured his heart out in song. Not my sisters’ lyrical laughter or wisecracks. Nor my precious Rooster standing by my side, loyal and protective. And as much as I hate Emiliano for the secrets I uncovered … I miss him too.
“We have a couple of hours before we have to leave. I have work to do before then, so take some time to relax, but do not be late.” Sebastian’s words break through the fog of too manythoughts.
