Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sophia

“Don’t you have any sacks that don’t stink of cologne?” I mutter as I stumble after Guiseppe blindly. I’m choking to death on aftershave or cologne smell again as I try to keep up with Guiseppe and his men.

“Be glad it’s not cat shit or something less pleasant,” Guiseppe says nastily as he gives my arm another hard yank. We have left my little cell, but I’m not sure where we are headed. We have gone down into the bowels of the ship, that much is clear, but I have no further impression of our location.

“In my day, we actually made sure that the blindfolds that we used had been soaked in urine before we used them. There’s something that the human body doesn’t like about the smell of urine. It’s especially upsetting after a few hours of being forced to bathe in it. Many men broke without any torture, just to avoid the pee-soaked bag being put back over their head.”

I roll my eyes, knowing that he can’t see the rude facial expression due to the cologne-filled hood on my head. It feels kind of nice to have some privacy, to know that my eyes and my face won’t give me away as I try to figure out what to do next.

I’m not sure what Guiseppe is up to, but he seems agitated and excited. I presume Angelo is coming to meet him. It’s clear that they will meet here, on the ship that Guiseppe owns.

I think we must be at least two or three levels below the room where I have been struggling to stay conscious, gagging and dizzy for what feels like days. I wonder how long he will keep me in the dark. Maybe he soaked the hood in cologne just because he knew that it would make me sick.

I stumble to a stop and dry heave, my stomach trying to grapple with the smell of the hood and the fetid, sewage-like stink of the port area.

“This is truly a disgusting process,” Guiseppe says with irritation, hesitating only until I have stopped making choking sounds, before hustling me along again. “I can’t imagine why everyone is so romantic over it.”

“Creating life is beautiful,” I say fervently. “It’s a privilege, a journey. I don’t expect you to understand.”

He chuckles. “You know the biggest irony of all?” he says, grabbing my shoulders and pushing my head down. “Step in and duck at the same time,” he orders me.

I do as he says, carefully, reaching out my hands just in case there is something in the way of my forward progression. My broken finger protests sharply and I bite back a cry of pain.

“I find it to be particularly hilarious that my father wanted to keep me a secret so badly that he didn’t wait around to find out what I liked,” he says, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“You see, I like men, so I would never have had an heir without my little brother anyhow. I would have enjoyed my time as ruler of our family and then I would have passed out of the history of our venerated family. But, he didn’t even wait long enough to see if I liked women or men before he cut me out of his life.”

Strangely, I feel for Guiseppe for a moment. There’s real pain in his voice.

“When did you find out who your father was?” I ask as he shoves me into a chair. I feel him tying me up and I allow it. I need to keep him busy talking. I’ve learned that when he’s talking, he’s less likely to hurt me. I’m realizing that he’s been lonely for so long, that having my company is making his tongue loose. I hope he might tell me something useful that will help me to get out of here.

He secures a knot more tightly, then stands up and brushes off his hands. I can hear the soft scraping of his callouses over one another.

“When father died, I was given a small box with the things that he had left to me. I was confused at the time. I didn’t know the don of the Castiglia family well. Why would he leave me anything in his will?”

He snorts. “I thought it might be money or something, a thank you for all the times I had helped out the Castiglia family on raids and jobs. But that wasn’t what it was at all. He wrote me a letter,” Guiseppe says, his voice laden with pain. “He explained everything and said that he knew that I would understand why Angelo had to be the heir.”

I can positively feel the rage pouring off of him. I swallow hard. I cannot show him that I am scared of him.

“A letter,” he says caustically. “As if that would explain why he chose to abandon me and ignore me. As if a letter would make up for all the years that I was alone and unloved.”

He yanks the hood off of my head, and I take a deep breath, then regret it. The air doesn’t smell very good down here. I glance around. This part of the ship is not in great repair and I quail a little at what look like bloodstains on the walls and the metal floor.

“What did the letter say?” I ask, swallowing hard. I am actually curious. Being forced to spend so much time with Guiseppe has made me wonder more and more about what turned him into this kind of monster. That, and it’s hard to hang onto consciousness with all of my injuries, the thirst and the exhaustion. Talking to him helps keep me going.

Guiseppe sneers. “He apologized for taking away my birthright from me. He tried to explain that I wasn’t of pure blood. It’s like that fantasy book with the kids who are wizards…what did they call the kids who weren’t real wizards?”

“Mudbloods,” I supplied helpfully.

He glances at me and grins. “Yes…that. Anyhow, he also told me that he knew that your father had treated me so well that I didn’t feel any lack. After all, I was a right-hand man. What else could I want?”

I set my mouth in a thin line. Clearly, that had not been enough, and I supposed that I really couldn’t blame him.

Guiseppe’s phone chimes in his pocket and he smiles. “Your lover is on his way to the meeting location. I can’t wait to bring you two together again. Like a matchmaker, no?”

I look him in the eye, wondering how his brain works. What is he thinking? Does he think that Angelo will give in to his demands? I don’t believe for a second that my husband will let him have what he wants. He always has some kind of plan in the works. I would happily let Guiseppe have anything he wanted, just to get out of here, but Angelo is not likely to feel the same way.

“Sit tight,” Guiseppe says with a slightly unhinged laugh, and then he leaves, presumably to meet Angelo.

I close my eyes as my vision swims. I’m barely hanging on by a thread at this point. I think my wounds are becoming infected due to lack of attention and I’m increasingly scared for my child. I don’t honestly believe that any of us are going to get out of this alive. I’m losing hope and I’m so numb that I almost don’t care.

I start to give in to the desire to just sleep, just go to sleep, and never wake up. But then, I hear a noise. Fearing rats or perhaps the presence of one of Guiseppe’s men, I open my good eye a crack, looking toward the door.

It’s jiggling as someone pulls the deadbolt, and I suck in a deep breath, my heart racing. Guiseppe would not have come back so soon. Something else is going on.

As I feign unconsciousness, the door opens slowly. My heart feels like it’s in my throat, suffocating me. The door swings open a little and I nearly cry with relief when I see Franco poke his head inside.

“Shh,” he says quietly to me, moving quickly toward me and starting to untie me. “We have all the men under control, but we need to wait for him to bring Angelo here so we can spring the trap.”

“Trap?” I say hazily. He’s making concerned noises as he looks at all of my wounds. He hands me a bottle of water. I have no idea where he got it from, but I grab it and greedily drink from it.

“Slowly, slowly,” he cautions me. “Or you’ll be sick.”

“I’ve been gagging and retching for days,” I say in between sips of water.

“Is the baby…?” he asks me, his voice trailing off.

I press a hand to my waist. “Fine, I think. But not because of Guiseppe’s thoughtfulness. “He’s a madman, Franco.”

He nods. “I know. He’s Angelo’s brother.”

I nod. “He told me. It’s terrible. What a mess.”

“A mess that will be taken care of soon,” Franco promises. He pulls out some pain medication and passes it to me. “Over the counter. Safe for the baby. I checked.”

I take it and swallow it around the lump in my throat. Being hydrated is working wonders for my overall physical well-being and now my fear is back full force.

“I’m able to walk,” I say, rising from the chair. “Let’s go get ready to attack Guiseppe.”

Franco shakes his head. “There’s no better place to trap him than here. Just sit tight. We’ll take him out when he brings Angelo down to you. You can just act like you’re tied up when he first walks in so that he doesn’t realize we’ve come around behind him.”

“But…” I start to argue. Franco glances at his phone and curses in Italian.

“They’re on the move,” he says. “Get back in the chair and just pretend to be tied up. We will take him out as soon as he steps into the room, don’t worry.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Franco is gone, locking the door behind him. I will have some words with that man when I’m out of here. This cannot possibly be the best way to handle this, but what choice do I have now?

I sit still, the thunder of my heart filling my ears and drowning out all other noise around me. Finally, after what feels like forever, I think that I hear voices.

I strain my ears and I’m finally able to recognize Angelo’s deep voice speaking in reply to something that Guiseppe has said. My heart soars. He sounds like he’s all right. Maybe this will work after all.

“I just need you both to sign the documents handing the business holdings over to me,” Guiseppe is saying.

“Seems only fair,” Angelo says readily, his tone smooth, unbothered. “After all, you were supposed to be the don of our family. I’m sorry about what our father did to you.”

I think that I hear real sincerity in Angelo’s voice. He probably is experiencing the same mismatched emotions about Guiseppe’s story. The man is deranged but he was treated very poorly by both of our fathers.

“It’s nice to finally be able to speak about who I am in the open,” Guiseppe says. His voice sounds very close now and the door rattles in the frame.

I slump down in the chair, acting like I am barely conscious. The element of surprise is all we have going for us here and I believe Franco, that there is a plan in place. I can’t make a mess of the plan by seeming too alert.

I peer out from under my lashes as the door slowly swings open. Guiseppe gestures for Angelo to step in first. I see him hesitate. This was clearly not part of the plan. They look at one another for a few beats and a slow smile spreads across Guiseppe’s countenance. I know that smile. It’s the smile that he wears right before he inflicts pain.

I jolt upright in the chair, ready to spring into action, and Guiseppe’s gaze jerks to mine, his eyes going wide. He can tell that something is wrong.

“Angelo!” I cry, but it’s too late.

Guiseppe grabs Angelo around the neck, pressing a gun to my husband’s temple.