Page 6 of The Enslaved Duet

“Well then.” He waved his hand to go on before flicking the turn single and coasting to the front of a large wrought iron gate. He rolled down the window, but the gates opened before he could speak into the intercom.

I waited, taking in the sloping driveway bracketed by beautifully cut grass and spiraling trees. The house appeared almost immediately, large and traditional with a red clay roof and golden stucco walls. It was beautiful, certainly, but a fake, a very obvious modern reproduction of something the owner could have had authentically with perhaps a few less amenities.

“You need to leave,” I said as I got out of the car quickly and reached into the back to snatch the small duffel bag I had hidden under my seat. “I packed your clothes, some money.” Money that I had shamefully stolen from Sebastian’s getaway fund. “Even your pipe is in here.”

“How thoughtful,” he said, rising out of the small car and staring at me from across the hot metal.

“I’m serious, Papa.” My accent thickened noticeably as my anxiety spiked. We didn’t have much time to linger in the driveway. I had already seen a curtain twitch. “I need you to swear to me that you will never go back there.”

“They need me,” he said, but it lacked conviction because even Seamus Moore wasn’t a good enough liar to make that true.

“They really don’t. You’ve only brought the family shame and misfortune. Until now, it was almost forgivable. You have a gambling problem and a silver tongue.” I shrugged. “You were born like that. But now, you’ve gambled away your daughter. And I won’t ever let you put Giselle or Elena in the same situation.”

“Ah, I see. So you think this is a good trade? The golden daughter martyred for the wicked father?” Seamus’ eyes twinkled merrily. He delighted in my mind, in the games and trades he had imparted to me like wisdom. It wasn’t wisdom, it was foolery, but if he wanted to believe otherwise, I didn’t really care.

“No, I think they’ll be better off without both of us. We attract too much attention,” I said.

The redhead gambler involved with the mafia and the beautiful virgin they lusted after… it didn’t make for a happy ending for anyone, but especially their loved ones.

“Arrogant.”

I shrugged.

“Your sisters are beautiful, too. And your Sebastian.”

My heart started, stuttered, and stopped at the mention of my brother, my other half. But I had thought this out carefully, and I knew the statistics and probabilities of their future more clearly than I could ever foresee my own.

“A handsome man is still a man. And with you gone, they’ll actually have a chance of getting out,” I pointed out.

“No one just ‘gets out’, Cosima.” It was the first time my father’s voice had changed from anything but pleasant. “Not without consequences.”

“I know.” I nodded, the finality of the movement like a hammer. “What do you call this?”

I tossed the bag back into the car and slammed the door shut before turning on my heel to head for the massive oak doors of the villa. A small portfolio containing the only things I cared about in this life was clutched under my arm like something precious and superfluous, like a football.

I waited until he stood beside me at the door to say, “Swear to me.”

He hesitated. “I’ll need some more money.”

I almost smiled; so predictable. “If you’re willing to steal mob money, I won’t stop you.”

He kicked at the door, his knuckles too raw to knock. It opened suddenly, as if someone had been waiting with his or her hand on the knob for us to arrive. A man stood before us, dressed in an expensive black and white suit that matched his salt and pepper hair which was thick and deeply parted, tidily combed, and slicked to one side. He was the least impressionable man I had ever seen in my life; entirely pale like only a Brit could be with bland, fleshy features. Without a word, he stepped aside to allow two men in black to pass through and frisk us.

I could tell Seamus wanted to say something, object or, more probably, make an inappropriate joke, but one haughty look from the butler stopped him. It was easy to ignore the hulking man who moved from behind the butler to pat me down, brushing his thick fingers over my breasts and groin; he was professional and barely paid my face a cursory glance. It was the first time a man had shown himself to be sexually unaffected by my audacious curves, and I was strangely aroused by it. He wore sunglasses even though he had emerged from the cool, dark interior and when he grasped my arm firmly to tug me into the house, I shivered slightly.

We were led through an immense red tiled foyer down a long hallway to a large closed door. They left us there, padding silently away with no indication of what we should do. So we waited in silence because it felt like sacrilege to speak in such a tomb.

“If I promised to change?” Seamus spoke so quietly, his mouth unmoving and slack that even though I was looking right at him, I couldn’t be sure he had spoken.

“You won’t.”

“Do you think I don’t want to, Cosima? That I like being me? Do you think I want to do this, sell my daughter, for Christ’s sake? I love you.” A shaky breath wavered in the air between us. “I love Mama and our family. Don’t take both of us away from them.”

“I really think I’m doing you a favour,” I said, and I did.

I was giving him an out. If he went back to Napoli, he would have to be crazy to think that the family would welcome him with open arms after what he had done. This way, he could leave knowing he had my blessing at least.

Seamus Moore was a lot of things, but crazy wasn’t one of them.