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“We take care of them. We make sure that they have a roof over their heads and food on the table. If the children are young then we help support the young mother until the children are old enough to go off to school, at which point we help her find a job within one of our many businesses so that she can earn a living for her and her children.”
“Do you know what they do to widows and children of the fallen men in the Romano family?” I shook my head and her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before she looked back up at me with steel in her spine and ice in her veins. “They sell them. Attractive widows go to the sex trade, older or unattractive ones are put to work as indentured servants, the children work cleaning houses or doing whatever chores they can until they determine where they will go and what sort of training they will have.
“Gianni did not love me. I was not his wife because he loved me. I was his wife because he owned me, and I got pregnant. He didn't want our child to be born a bastard, so he married me. There is no love lost between us. But Gianni did love our daughter and he was afraid for her if something happened to him. That's why he told me to do this, to come to you, and to beg you to protect me and her if something were to happen to him. They will sell her off the moment they get their hands on her. We've been staying with relatives, trying to hide until I could get to you as soon as he missed the first check-in.”
“How old is your daughter?” I asked with a more tender tone.
“She's nine. Andrea had already been eyeing her. He would make little comments that he passed off his jokes about how beautiful she was and how much money she would bring when she was of age. He won't hesitate to rip my daughter from my arms and sell her to the highest bidder. Do what you want with me, but I am begging you to protect her. If you agree, I will give you everything that I know about where they took Mia and what Andrea's plan is.”
“I didn't think that Gianni told you the full plan.”
“He didn't, but his computer did. When he missed the first check-in I hacked his computer and went through all his records. Even his text messages are backed up onto that thing. He didn't know that I knew the password, but it was easy to figure out over time. Being with someone for ten years, you get to know them pretty well.”
“All right. I will protect you and your daughter. I won't let Romano harm you in any way. You are under my protection. Now tell me what you know.”
Mia
Despair. Pure and utterdespair. There was no other word to describe the way I felt after being thrown back into my cell by one of Andrea’s men.
I sat there numb for a while on the hard stone floor.
I was in a foreign country, surrounded by enemies on all sides, with no means of escape. Teo would search all of Italy for me. He might even look as far as Sicily, but there was no way that he would think to look in Corsica. There would be no reason for him to. We hadn't heard anything out of the Corsicans since they left him for dead in the south of France.
Teo.There was some memory there that I couldn't quite recall, something that I needed to remember that lingered just out of reach. I closed my eyes and thought back to the last memory that I had before I was taken. Flashes of memories popped in my head. The champagne glass shattered to the floor as I turned to see Gabe standing in my room. Before that...I forced my brain to think back further.
'The photographer wants us all to meet at the main staircase to start pictures in about fifteen minutes.'Courtney's voice echoed in my mind, and I saw her standing in my doorway, smiling.
I'd taken a nervous breath, my eyes wide in the mirror as I peered back at myself in my mother's wedding dress.'You guys mind giving me a few minutes to myself?'
'Not at all.'Vittoria smiled softly before leaving the room.
'Not getting cold feet, I hope,'I heard Teo's voice in my head as the memories grew choppy.
'I can’t wait to marry you,'I smiled to myself as I remembered the moment.
'Me neither. Then you will officially be mine and we can start enjoying our life—shit.'
