Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Two men entered the pit, armed with shields and spears, just like gladiators. I shook my head.
“Bets are terrific, according to Nino, especially online. It doesn’t even matter who fights. Though your fights and whenever the wildcats are involved trump everything.”
“They are. It’s a spectacle that encourages risky bets,” Nestore said proudly.
I turned my back on the screen. After a moment, Nestore touched my shoulder and held out a black credit card. “This is obviously too soon. Go to Francoise with your guards. You need a few dresses to impress a crowd. I want you to look like the wife of a Roman emperor.”
I gave him an incredulous look but took the card. Fabiano and Remo exchanged looks that suggested they thought shopping was all women were good for. I didn’t care. I just wanted out.
He picked up his phone and called someone. The two men who had guarded me on the premises before appeared in the doorway a couple of minutes later. In their matching black suits with black ties, they reminded me of coroners. Maybe that was Nestore’s intention. Morbidity was his favorite pastime.
I hesitated, wishing Nestore could come with me.
He kissed me briefly, taking me by surprise, before he turned back to Remo and Fabiano.
After another fleeting glance at the brutal fight on the screen, I left with my guards, and they took me to Francoise.
She didn’t bat an eye when I told her I needed to look like a Roman empress. Working for Nestore, she probably only got unusual requests. I tried to distract myself with shopping as some people could, but my mind remained in the Medusa with Nestore.
When I spotted a panel of bloodred silk, I asked Francoise to create something for me. “I need it for tonight. Can you sew something in a couple of hours?”
Her eyes widened, but she gave a resolute nod. “A simple spaghetti strap dress with an A-line.”
“I’ll wait as you work.”
I sank into a chair and watched Francoise cut the silk, then set up everything on her table with focused precision.
“How did you meet Nestore?” I asked when she turned on her sewing machine. Her shoulders rounded, and she tossed me a shaky smile.
“I was locked up in a cage in a man’s bedroom. I didn’t know his name. He kidnapped me…and used me for his needs.” Her voice drifted off. Her gaze was distant, and the stiff line of her body betrayed her struggle to maintain composure.
“One day, Mr. Romano came in when the man was busy with me. I thought maybe he would join in because that happened sometimes, but he ripped him away from me and cut his…his privates off.”
“Oh,” I whispered. “I’m…I’m sorry this happened to you.”
She nodded and frowned down at the fabric in concentration. “It’s over. He suffered for what he did. That’s my consolation.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Clearing my throat, I asked, “When was that?”
“Twenty-two months ago. I used to live in San Diego. I worked as a seamstress there too, but I didn’t have my own shop. Mr. Romano told me he needed a seamstress and bought the shop for me. I have worked for him and the Camorra ever since. I also work for other people, but his demands always come first.”
I nodded. “Did you and him…?”
Francoise’s eyes grew wide with horror. “No. Oh no. I’m done with men. I have my cats and my work. That’s all I need, thank you very much. Your husband is very devoted to you.”
I let out a small laugh. Devotion… that was one way to put it.
When I returned home in the late afternoon, Nestore wasn’t there yet. I hovered in the creepy entrance hall, my gaze drawn to the corridor that led down to the basement. My father must be in there. Maybe others, too.
I wanted to speak to my father. I wasn’t even sure why. But I needed a clean break and a final conversation with the man who should have loved me but never did. It seemed like a necessary step toward closure.
I took a few hesitant steps toward the door to the steep staircase, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” Niccolo warned.
I whirled around and found him standing a few steps behind me. Of course, I was never alone in this place. Nestore wouldn’t give me another chance to run.
“Are you spying on me?” I asked with a scowl.
“I am, and I’m telling you that you should stay out of the basement. Nestore’s trust in you is fragile, and a visit with your old man wouldn’t help.”
“I don’t want to help him or anything. I just want to see him for closure.”
“Your father is a master at manipulation. You think a conversation with him will really give you closure?”