Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Thanks. That’ll be all.”
The guard takes his leave while I continue to watch Daisy.
A taxi pulls up. Heidi must’ve let the driver through the gates. Daisy throws the half-smoked cigarette on the ground and gets into the back. She says something to the driver. He shoots a nervous look at the house before taking off.
After donning a jacket, I drive to Bastia and park in front of the luxury hotel. When I ask at the front desk, the concierge tells me Ms. Remington is having lunch on the closed terrace. I tip him and make my way to the restaurant.
Laura Remington sits alone at a table in a sunny spot overlooking the sea. A wide-brim straw hat and oversized sunglasses obscure her face. She wears a fitted black shift dress with nude stockings and black patent leather heels. A huge diamond sparkles on the ring finger of her right hand. Her only other adornment is a Rolex wristwatch.
She brings a cup to her lips as she stares at the smooth surface of the water.
With a single glance, I take stock of the room. An elderly couple eats quietly in the corner. A boisterous group of men dressed in cheap suits sit around a long table in the center. No bodyguards.
I go over.
When I pull out the chair opposite her and take a seat, her hand in which she’s holding the cup freezes in mid-air.
“Ms. Remington,” I say. “I’m Angelo Russo. We haven’t been introduced yet.”
“Mr. Russo,” she exclaims in a polished voice, leaving her cup in the saucer. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Your daughter is meddling in affairs she shouldn’t.”
She leans back and studies me. “My daughter is her own woman, Mr. Russo. She’s an adult who does what she pleases.”
“She’s barely an adult. For all practical purposes, she’s still a child.”
She flashes me a graceful smile. “She’s the same age as your wife.” She gives the statement a second to sink in before continuing. “Congratulations on your wedding, by the way. Ryan told Daisy the happy news when she called on him for business.”
“You mean when she went there to demand her cut of the company.”
“Which now belongs to you.”
“Exactly. And for the record, my wife is more mature than many people twice her age.”
She folds her hands on the table. “Good for you. I’m happy to hear that.”
“What are you doing here, Ms. Remington?”
“Why, I’m here on holiday.” She faces me squarely. “Why are you here, Mr. Russo?”
I pin her with a stare. “Your daughter is playing with fire. She’s going to get herself burned.”
“Thanks for your concern.” Picking up her cup, she says sweetly, “I’ll give her your message.”
I stand and adjust my jacket. I didn’t have to do Laura Remington the courtesy of delivering a warning. The only reason I’m here is because Daisy is blood of Sabella’s blood, and blood ties are sacred.
“This isn’t Cape Town,” I say. “I own this island. Don’t overstay your welcome.”
She tilts her head. “I’ll try to remember that.”
She’ll do both her and her daughter a favor if she does.
I don’t look back as I walk away.
I did my duty.
The rest is up to them.
Chapter
Four
Sabella
* * *
A week passes with no sign of my husband or Heidi, and I can’t help but wonder if he planned it like this on purpose. Because the morning-after pill will no longer be effective.
To say I’m going out of my mind is an understatement. I try not to show my turmoil to Sophie, who’s doing much better. Distracting both of us, I teach her the alphabet. She has a hunger for learning and makes quick progress. By the end of the week, she knows the letters by heart and recognizes a few three-letter words like cat, dog, and red.
As the days roll by, Sophie’s rash fades while anger and resentment build up inside me. Finally, the anger morphs into insecurity and doubt. How does Angelo feel? Is he anxious like me? Is he counting the days to my next period? I doubt that very much. For all I know, he’s hosting parties and going about his life without sparing me or the possible consequences of his actions another thought. When I think about him entertaining those well-groomed women at his dinner table, my chest tightens with uncontrollable jealousy. And then I’m angry again, and the vicious circle of worry and uncertainty continues.
Exactly one week and three days later, just as we’re starting to run low on provisions, I hear the sound of his car. Sophie and I are rolling out dough for cookies in the kitchen. The sky is a brilliant blue in the frame of the window. Birds are chirping outside. The weather is turning, moving toward spring, and while the days tick away, I don’t even have access to a pregnancy test.