Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
The pretty blonde twin girls. Definitely not prized possessions, but still possessions, like two little trophy babydolls sitting on his shelf.
Like that photograph, my mother’s memory was becoming less fixed and more of an impression, a lingering emotion. The more the details blurred, the more my mind filled them in. My mother was becoming less real and more idealized. A dangerous prospect.
But wasn't that what always happened with victims?
Whether my father forced her to abandon us or, worse, killed her, I was certain my mother was a victim. It was a horrible thought, but I had to cling to it for justification for what I was about to do in Abruzzo.
Benito stubbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray on the nearby desk. “No, signorina. A man only gets one chance to hold sunshine.” He tipped his hat. “Welcome to Cavalieri. I hope you are happy here.”
He pulled another hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket and cupped his hands to light it, before opening the train office door to an icy gust of wind just as a large man entered. His shoulders bent down slightly as he crossed the threshold. The moment he entered, he filled the room.
Dressed in a pair of mechanic's overalls with a wool blazer, scarf and tweed cap, his gaze immediately found me in the corner. He swiped the cap off his head and nodded. “Good evening, Signorina Fichera. My name is Alfonso. I’m here to take you to the estate.”
Unlike Benito and the stationmaster, his gaze did not travel over my attire with a questioning gaze. I nodded in return. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. I traveled here sooner than expected.”
“It is no trouble, although please excuse my attire,” he answered with a half smile as he reached for my suitcase. “Please stay here while I load the car.”
I rose and reached for my cello. “I can help.”
His jaw clenched as he gave me a hard look.
I backed away. “Or not.”
His smile returned. “I’ll only be a moment.”
As soon as my bag and cello were safely loaded, I turned to the stationmaster as I slipped his coat off my shoulders. “Thank you for your kindness.”
“It was my pleasure.”
I took a deep breath to brace for the cold, but it never came.
Before he opened the door, Alfonso slipped his own blazer off his shoulders and swept it over mine. It smelled faintly of wood smoke and fresh hay.
Again, I tried to object.
Again, I was met with a thin-lipped response.
“Thank you,” I whispered, following him out into the night.
The interior of the luxury car was warm and toasty as I slid along the leather back passenger seat, too shy to boldly sit up front with him.
The lights of the town gave way to pitch darkness and only flickering starlight as we drove along a narrow winding path deep into the countryside and higher up the mountain.
The car finally slowed at a massive wrought iron gate emblazoned with the Cavalieri family crest surrounded by two rearing horses. Two men holding vicious-looking semi-automatic rifles guarded it. At a nod from Alfonso, one of them pushed open one side and let us through.
Driving into the darkness, I glanced back through the rear window. The massive gate closed with a resounding clang, echoing ominously in the winter night.
I no longer had the advantage of being on my home turf.
I was in Matteo Cavalieri’s territory now.
CHAPTER 22
ELLA
Ashaft of warm light lit up the cobblestones as the heavy wood and wrought iron front door opened.
Alfonso nodded toward it. “Go ahead. I’ll bring your suitcase and instrument along.”
I was greeted by a woman around my age. “Good evening, come in.”
A shiver went up my spine when she closed the door behind me. “My luggage.”
“Alfonso will take it up the back way.”
I nodded as I dug my nails into the soft leather of my purse, trying to keep my gaze forward and not gawk at the elegant entranceway like some ingenue who was unaccustomed to such luxury…like me. My father had money, but he mostly spent it on himself. Only the rooms that he or his guests occupied in our house were properly decorated for his status and wealth. The rest of the house had seen no decor updates since my mother disappeared.
The woman interlaced her fingers and held them before her, rocking back and forth on her heels. It was a minor comfort to realize she was feeling the awkwardness of the moment as much as I was.
Finally, she said, “The others aren’t here.”
I nodded, too exhausted to come up with any more lies or excuses.
After another painful pause, she said, “Sorry. We didn’t know you were coming. Matteo said you would arrive later in the week.”
My cheeks burned. It was on the tip of my tongue to say neither did I, but I just gave her a tight-lipped smile.