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"No," I laugh. "Not at the moment."
"Shoot," she says plainly.
"How do you deal with secretive people, or trying to get them not to be so secretive? How do you make them trust you enough?"
She looks at me, her gaze thoughtful. She ponders it for a moment.
"Secrets can be tricky. And everyone is different. But they usually mean there's pain or fear involved. My advice? Be patient, but persistent. Don't push too hard, but don't let up, either. Eventually, if they trust you enough, they'll open up. You have to make yourself a safe place, somewhere where they feel free of judgment. Be relatable. Be understanding."
I nod, absorbing her words. She doesn't know it's about Nicole, but her advice hits home. "Thanks, Balina. That's… helpful."
She gives me a warm smile. "I'm happy for you, Shane. Whoever she is, she's lucky to have you."
Just then, my phone buzzes with a message from the office. As I glance at it, I notice the time and realize I'm late.
"Balina, I have to take off," I say, standing up quickly.
"Yeah, I guess I'll see you soon," she says with a smile.
"Can't wait," I say. I give her a hug and head for my car, trying to make it home as quickly as possible.
Chapter 16
Nicole
"Can't we just have a bit of space to walk?" I plead quietly, turning to Raffaele, who walks just a few steps behind us. His presence is a constant reminder of the life we've been thrust into.
Raffaele's eyes narrow slightly, his expression stern but not unkind. "You can walk a few feet ahead, but don't go too fast, and don't stare at anyone for too long. Understand?"
"Okay," I respond softly, trying to keep my voice steady. I don't want Gio to hear the desperation in my tone; he's scared enough as is. I squeeze his hand gently and take a few steps forward, separating us from Raffaele.
"Isn't that better, buddy? Just the two of us," I say, smiling as I look down at Gio.
He nods, a small smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, I like it better," he says, his voice still hinting at the childlike innocence I'm so desperate to protect.
It's been two weeks since our parents died, and in that time, Gio has barely spoken a word on his own. I know he misses them—our home, his school, his friends. But what we both miss most is our freedom. Raffaele and his men monitor every step we take and scrutinize every move. I can't help but wonder how much of this is truly for our safety and how much is about keeping me under control.
Today is a rare break from our enforced solitude. We've ventured outside the compound to a nearby town. The sun is shining, and the people around us seem friendly and uninterested in who we are or why we're here. Gio is smiling for the first time in what feels like forever. It should be a moment of relief, but the weight of Raffaele's gaze from behind keeps me anchored to reality. One of his men trails just a few feet behind him, while another waits in the driver's seat of an SUV parked nearby, ready to whisk us away at a moment's notice.
The city is small and picturesque, with the market square at its heart, bustling with vendors selling fruits, dresses, and trinkets. Locals walk together, chatting and laughing, eating cannoli, and enjoying the summer weather. It's the kind of place people come to for a vacation, to escape the worries of their everyday lives.
The market square is alive with the scents of ripe fruit, warm bread, and the salty sea. Walking with Giovanni, I bask in the gentle warmth of the sun as we navigate the cobblestone streets. We pass by a grape vendor with a wrinkled face and a friendly smile who hands us two large purple grapes.
"Thank you," I say, returning his smile, trying to seem as natural as possible. I hand one to Gio and watch as he pops it into his mouth. "What do you think?" I ask him.
"It's so fresh and sweet," he replies, and I see his eyes light up. These are the moments I work so hard to make for him. I only hope they bring him some joy to the darkness our family has left us in.
The surrounding crowds are dense, the chatter providing a comforting background noise, helping to distract me from the anxiety gnawing at my insides. I scan the faces in the crowd, searching for anyone who might be looking at us too intently, anyone who could pose a threat. I make sure Raffaele is still visible, trailing behind us like a shadow.
I make an effort to appear like an ordinary sister taking my little brother to the market on a sunny Sunday afternoon. However, I can't shake the feeling of unease, and my heart races whenever someone approaches us or stares for too long.
We make our way through the market square, the cobblestones worn smooth. The backdrop is a row of two-story villa houses, their faded pastel facades bathed in sunlight. Farther down the hill, the road curves gently toward the sea, where more housesare nestled along the coastline. The clear blue shimmering water of the beach is visible in the distance, beckoning to us like a far-off dream.
"Do you think we could go to the beach later?" Gio asks, his voice filled with hopefulness.
"I don't know, G. I'll ask Raffaele, but don't get your hopes up, okay?" I keep my tone gentle, not wanting to dampen his spirits.
We cross a road to another line of vendors when I suddenly feel a hand grip my arm. Instinctively, I push Gio away, my heart pounding. But when I look, I see Raffaele; his expression is tense and severe.