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Sienna
“You look beautiful,” Clara says in the car. “Nice idea to get a massage. Your skin is glowing.”
I slap on a smile. If only she knew what kind of massage I got earlier…
I shake my head. My pussy throbs when memories flash in my mind. I push those dirty images aside. I have to focus.
The driver and Vito sit up front in the limo. I’m in the back with my father across from me and Clara to my right. They’re both dressed up. My father twiddles his thumbs, alternating between looking at me and out the window as we drive through an exclusive suburb.
He’s nervous. He knows he fucked up—even if he’s still going through with the plan.
My father isn’t a man known to change his mind often. Hell, I’m sure he came to his senses five minutes after hiring Matteo ten years ago, but a dark part of him had to see it through. He’s too damn worried about people knowing his word holds weight.
“You remind me of your mother,” Dad says.
“Thank you,” I say, refraining from asking exactly what kind of version of my mom I look like this evening. The one he married? Or the one who he resented after she cheated on him? These questions won’t do me any favors, and I certainly don’t need to increase my anxiety.
Tomorrow, Matteo is meeting the person giving him our new passports.
I have to get through tonight.
When we park, my father glances at Clara and says, “I’ll give you two some time.”
Time? What for?
Dad slides out of the limo, which is still running. The partition lifts, and I’m boxed in with Clara. I hear more doors being opened. Must be the driver and Vito.
I reach for my handle, but Clara gestures with her hand.
“Sienna,” she says, calling me.
“What?”
She looks up at the ceiling and smooths her hand over her dress. “I need to tell you something before you leave.”
“What is it?”
“You’re getting married tonight.”
My world spins. Panic constricts my lungs and squeezes my heart. The idea of it is downright horrific, but I connect the dots. Clara accompanying us to this event, which she rarely does. My father being so nervous in the limo and cowardly leaving so she’s stuck giving me this news.
“I can’t get married. We planned and?—”
“Plans change. I told your father about your connection with Matteo, so we came up with this plan. We didn’t spell it out to the Carusos—we only said for safety measures, we moved up the date. They didn’t care. Actually, Francesco thought it’d be more practical to cash in on his end of the bargain earlier.”
“You miserable bitch,” I say, my words violent like a slap.
Tears brim her green eyes. “I’m sorry. This is the best way to do things. No one will get hurt. After the wedding, you’ll stay here, and Matteo will be let go. He’ll have his freedom, and I made your father promise he won’t hurt him or his mother.”
“Why did you get involved? Why?”
“Because when your mother died, I didn’t. I didn’t do much. I pretended I didn’t see her going out to meet that man for many years. And look where it took us. If I had done anything, if…” Her voice trails off, guilt dripping from her words.
I swallow the lump throbbing in my throat. Shit.
Clara is delusional and unhinged. Fighting her won’t get me anywhere. I need to find a way to alert Matteo—find a moment alone.Go along to get along.
I think of the small gun in my bag. Will I have the guts to use it? Cold sweat forms on my forehead. Taking it out now is useless. No one cares about Clara. Threatening her won’t do me any good. I need to find the right opportunity to use it. Alerting Matteo is paramount.
