Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“But that’s two weeks away,” Piper pointed out. “Do you have access to email? Or a phone?”
“I can get it if I have to.” I didn’t have regular access, but I was pretty sure that I could get help from Stefano if I really needed it. One thing I was sure of: there was no way on earth he was involved in this. He was a good man. Plus, he’d stayed as far away from that side of things as he could.
“Let me give you my new number.” Piper wrote it on a piece of paper, but I didn’t feel it was safe to take it back with me in case Massimo found it. As far as the Morettis knew, Piper was just Zoey’s assistant, not my friend. In the end, I simply repeated the number until I had it memorized.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Piper’s sympathy made me blink back tears. “I wish there were something more we could do.”
“Don’t come to the wedding,” I told Zoey suddenly. “There’s no way I could slip away from the reception, and I don’t know ... if there’s any way you two can help me escape at some point in the future, it’s probably best that Massimo and his brothers think there’s no connection between us.”
“That’s smart,” Zoey said. “But when you know what you want, get in touch with Piper and we’ll try to help.”
“I just wish I could go home. I mean, back with my family.” Except that wasn’t an option. If I went on the run, then that would be the first place Massimo would look.
Zoey and Piper exchanged a glance. “What?” I asked.
The singer took a deep breath. “Leila, if Massimo joined forces with your father specifically for access to those ports—then your father is probably involved in the human trafficking, too.”
Time froze as I stared at her. Then I looked at Piper, who didn’t contradict her friend.
My father did that? My stomach rolled and I jumped to my feet.
“Leila,” Piper reached for me, but I skittered back, bumping into a diner at another table.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, both to the guy I’d crashed into and to Piper and Zoey. Then I dashed toward the back hallway of the restaurant where I’d seen customers go in and out of. I heard Carmine call my name before I disappeared into the women’s restroom.
Hurrying into an open stall, I sank to my knees, feeling my stomach heave. By the time I’d emptied my guts and was hanging weakly onto the edge of the toilet, I felt a large hand on my back.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” My voice was faint and hoarse.
Carmine helped me to my feet and guided me over to the sink where I rinsed my mouth out.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine,” I said weakly. Could a man who looked this concerned about me really send other women my age to a horrible fate?
“You’re sick.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted again. “I just think French food doesn’t agree with me. Maybe there’s some ingredient I’m allergic to.”
“Should I take you to the hospital?” His question made me think of what Piper had said about human trafficking victims ending up in her ER.
“No, I just want to go back to the house.” The words came out before I could consider the wisdom of them. But where else could I go? Not my father’s house—not now that I knew he might be involved, too. All I really wanted to do was to curl up in that little hideaway on the third floor and cry until I fell asleep.
“What about the singer?”
“I don’t think I want her to sing at my wedding. She and her assistant were kind of stuck-up.” It wasn’t true of course, but it sounded plausible. I washed my hands in the sink and splashed some water on my face. “Can we leave, please?”
“Sure.”
His eyes were troubled as he took my arm and led me out of the restaurant. I didn’t even glance over at Zoey and Piper’s table. If I had, I might have run to them and begged them to say that it wasn’t true, that they’d made it up.
But even I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that.
24
LEILA
The days until the wedding seemed to pass too quickly—and also too slowly somehow. Every morning when I woke up next to Massimo, the wedding was another day closer. But the days themselves were long and gave me too much time to think.
Was Massimo really that much of a monster? Was my father? Was Carmine?
The only one I was a hundred percent sure of was Stefano. I spent as much time as I could with him, eating lunch together and playing his video game in the afternoon. But I pulled back from touching him. Even kissing him. I didn’t think he was involved, but it was just all so confusing. Every brick of the house we both lived in had come from dirty money. I’d known that, and yet ... I hadn’t known exactly how dirty it might be.