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“Okay, I’ll give you fifteen thousand dollars if you can get me the next location and date. I’m going to throw a spanner in the works, no matter what it takes.”
She stops typing and turns to really look at me. “I don’t say this very often, but I like you.”
The girl is socially awkward, but I’ve got to admit I like her too. “Thanks, right back at you.”
Jane gets an odd look in her eyes. “Anyone who will put their neck on their line to help children is a saint in my books.” I sense that she has past trauma of abuse just from the look in her eyes and how important this is to her.
“I’m definitely not a saint.”
Even in her silence, I feel her knowing this bond of understanding pulls us together. And then she says it—a phrase so potent and weighted with meaning, it takes me aback. “You’re tortured like me,” she states, as if she can see right to my soul and the trauma that I harbor over losing Aiden.
I’m taken aback by the emotion that suddenly swells within my heart. We’re the same—broken by our pasts and driven by them—even if the source of our pain is not the same. “Perhaps,” I reply with a small nod, feeling as if I can trust her, something that doesn’t come easy to me.
“Count me in on this journey,” she continues, her gaze unwavering as she speaks. “Wherever it takes us.”
I nod. “I will.”
A thick silence settles between us as I linger and observe the peace that radiates from her as she begins to work again. At that moment, I feel like I belong somewhere for the first time in ages—even if it doesn’t make much sense.
* * *
“What is this all about?”Bella asks, sitting across from me at the little family run Italian restaurant I know she loves, as Gio suggested I bring her here.
I tilt my head. “Your father suggested we start to get to know each other a little better before the wedding.”
“You know, I’ve been trying to work out why a man from Britain would come all this way just to marry me.” Her eyes narrow. “I sense you have an ulterior motive behind wanting to tie the knot, and I have every intention of discovering what that motive is.”
A chill runs through me, as clearly Bella is more intuitive than I anticipated. If she unearths my plan, I’d be in deep trouble, but I’m not really worried because I cover my tracks well. “My only reason for marrying you is that it will strengthen my organization with a formidable ally.”
“Thousands of miles away?” she challenges.
I nod. “It’s best that way. Less competition and your father is doing the same thing, wanting to expand across the pond.”
Her eyes narrow as there’s no refuting the fact that her father is indeed doing the same thing. “Even so, I don’t buy it,” she says.
A half smile plays on my lips as I study her closely. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know her well and each day, she astonishes me with her courage and intelligence. Sitting opposite her, I wonder if she’s aware of how much of a monster her father truly is.
“And I don’t care.” I grab her hand and squeeze. “You’re going to be mine one way or another. It’s futile to try to clutch at straws in an attempt to find something to get you out of this wedding, because there’s nothing to find.”
She crosses her arms over her chest as the server comes over.
“Hey Bella,” he says, giving her a dazzling smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here.”
“Hey Enzo,” she replies, hardly looking at him as she continues to glare daggers at me.
“Who’s your friend?” Enzo asks, a look of jealousy in his eyes.
It’s amusing really, as he’s just a boy. Hardly a suitable match for a formidable woman like Bella. That thought makes me pause as I wonder when I stopped thinking of her as a Benedetto and rather as a formidable woman in her own right. She’s no different from the rest of them, except annoyingly she is; Smart, independent and selfless, unlike the rest of them, except perhaps Nina, who seems complicated but different from her family.
And as that thought echoes in my mind, so does Cathal’s plea to spare her and the Benedetto children. I’m still not convinced.
This world would be a better one if no Benedetto existed within it. Cain is practically a clone of his father.
“This is Isiah,” she says somewhat dismissively.
“Her fiancé,” I add.
She glares at me. “You are not my fiancé.”
