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Nausea roils through me. He was never the best father, but he was my father. I'd do anything for him. And that's exactly what I did in coming to stay here, bargaining myself away like chattel. All to protect the only family I have left.
And now, that family might be in mortal danger with each second I'm trapped in this room. The Riccis could decide I'm not worth the trouble and simply eliminate both me and my father. Make us disappear, like so many before who crossed them.
Fear for my father's life whips through me, edging out caution. I have to get out of here, keep him safe. Hands trembling, I scan the room—there must be something I can use to get free.
My eyes fall on the antique writing desk in the corner. Pens, papers, a few of the books I borrowed from the library on top. Useless. I wrench open drawers, scrabbling through them until my fingers close around cool, smooth metal. Scissors.
Inspiration strikes me. The sheets. I can cut them into strips and braid them together. It's crazy, but just maybe, with enough length, I can use them to climb down from the balcony.
I set to work, a mantra swirling through my mind. Stay calm and think. I hack through the silken sheets, my breaths coming fast and panicked. But I force myself to focus, to keep my hands moving steadily.
After what feels like an eternity, I have a makeshift rope that spans from the bedpost to the balcony railing outside. Please let this hold me, I pray. Height has never bothered me, but even my heart quails looking at the three story drop below.
With a deep breath, I loop the fabric over my shoulder and lower myself over the edge. Hand over hand, I descend carefully, barely daring to breathe. I'm nearly there. Just a little farther and—
"Going somewhere?"
The voice from below nearly makes me lose my grip. I glance down to see Giovanni Ricci looking up at me, brown eyes swirling with emotions too complex to read. Pain, confusion, hesitation. My chest squeezes tight. Not just an escape attempt interrupted, but a confrontation I'm in no state for.
"Giovanni," I rasp out. My throat is dry, and I lick my lips. "I...I can explain."
He presses his lips together, considering me for a long moment. Then he steps forward, lifting up his arms. "Here. Let me help you down first."
I hesitate only a second before releasing my grip on the makeshift rope. His hands close around my waist, effortlessly lifting me down and setting me on my feet. We're partially hidden in an alcove, but still dangerously exposed. Discovery could come at any moment.
"Why?" I finally whisper, searching his face. Of all the Ricci brothers, Giovanni has always seemed the most approachable, less hardened by this life of crime and violence.
Giovanni blows out a long breath, not meeting my eyes at first. His shoulders slump slightly.
"I shouldn't be telling you any of this," he finally says, voice tinged with bitterness. "Antonio would kill me himself if he knew I was here."
At last he looks at me again, and I read the conflict written clearly across his face. "But my head is telling me one thing, while my gut is saying another." His eyes meet mine again, conflicted. "Your father has been working with the Ferraro family to pay off his debt. Using them to fence some artwork." Disgust twists his mouth around the name.
Desperation edges my words. "I have no idea what my father is doing outside here."
He chews his lower lip, considering. After a moment, he takes my elbow lightly. "Come on. We shouldn't stay out here in the open."
I let him guide me deeper into the shadowed gardens, my heart thudding against my ribs. Can I really trust Giovanni? But what choice do I have at this point?
At last we duck into a vine-covered alcove with a stone bench. Giovanni sits, gesturing for me to join him. I perch on the edge, every nerve thrumming.
"So talk to me," he finally says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Make me understand why you're climbing the balcony like fucking Rapunzel."
I twist my fingers together, marshaling my racing thoughts. "Because they trapped me."
Giovanni grimaces. "Yeah, my brother can be a real bastard when he thinks the family's been wronged." He pauses, studying me. "What's your side of the story here? Did you really not know anything about what your father was doing? Or, what Antonio fears most...did you come here as a spy for the Ferraros?"
So that's what this is all about. Antonio believes I'm a plant, sent by their rival mafia family to infiltrate and betray them. The thought makes me want to laugh and cry all at once. My life has fallen so very far, so fast.
I shake my head, blinking back the hot tears welling in my eyes. "I swear I didn't know about my father's debt when Dante first came to our house. His gambling, his dealings with your family - it was all a horrible shock."
Giovanni studies me, his expression difficult to read. "Do you swear it's the truth?" he asks intently. "The whole truth?"
I know I should tell him about Roberto Ferraro's attempt to recruit me. But the words stick in my throat. It will only deepen Antonio's suspicions, despite my refusal.
"It's the truth," I say instead, lifting my chin. The words feel sour, but I remind myself I never betrayed any Ricci secrets. I already decided never to talk to the Ferraros again.
Giovanni looks away with a heavy sigh, scrubbing one hand down his face. "I believe you," he finally says. "Or at least...I believe you think you're telling the truth." At my stricken look, he holds up a hand. "Hey, I'm on your side here. But Antonio...he won't be so quick to trust when his pride is at stake."
