Chapter Twenty-seven
Chiara
“No! We are not coming back there until Misha says it’s safe!” I’m practically screaming into the phone, and I only feel a little bad that I’m screaming at my dad. He deserves it, though. He put his daughters in this position.
“You are still my daughter, Chiara Maria, and you will do as I say!” he answers back. His voice is gruff, and angry, but he’s not yelling like I am. I think he feels his control slipping away, and I’m glad. I hope he suffers, the way I have over the last few months.
“You gave up your right to call me that months ago, when you tried to sell me to a man I didn’t want.”
I’m pacing around the living room in Dimitri’s hotel suite, which is the entire length and width of the hotel. I swear, a person could get lost in his penthouse apartment. I’m currently watching Guilia swimming in the pool that is partially inside the suite, the other half of which is on the balcony. Who in the hell is rich enough to have an indoor pool in their apartment? Frankie’s dad’s house isn’t half this decadent.
I’m wearing the bathing suit that was brought to me by Dimitri’s personal valet, Beso. Beso has seen to all of our needs since we arrived, efficiently and patiently. He has to be a damn saint to have answered all of Guilia’s questions without getting the least bit flustered. Most men give up on her after twenty minutes of her incessant chatter. I have no idea how a man like Dante thought he’d be able to handle her.
“We can find you, Chiara. We have ways. You’re coming back willingly, or Frankie will drag you back kicking and screaming. Your choice.” His voice and tone are both threatening. I’ve never heard him try to be this intimidating. My shoulders shake from it. Then I glance across the room at Beso, who is trying hard not to stare at Guilia. He has a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. He’s tall and wide, and built like a tank, and he offered us his protection as soon as we entered Dimitri’s home. The two armed men outside the door, and the other guards employed by the hotel, add to my sense of security.
“Good luck with that, Dad. We’re not going anywhere until Misha comes to get us. Face it, Papa, we’re not your pawns anymore.” I end the call, and throw my phone down onto the nearest white leather couch. I called my mother’s phone, to talk to her, and he answered. I didn’t want to speak to him anyway.
Beso’s attention is torn from my sister when he hears the conversation end. He nods, and leaves as if he suddenly remembered something of utmost importance that needs his attention. I never thought I’d feel this safe in the enemy’s house.
Where did I even get the idea that Russians were the enemy? I mean, I never really had any allegiance to the Moretti family. Maybe it’s the idea that they are just as ruthless as the Italian mob. Misha is a killer, after all. But I don’t think he wants to be. I’m reminded of the tattoo of the anchor on his hip, the one he hid away on his body so most people would never see it. I bet he feels just as weighed down by his family as I’ve always felt by mine. He is the one who has suggested we run away and never look back. I don’t think it was all because of my impending marriage, either. And I remember how he offered to kill, to financially support my family. He doesn’t do it because he likes it, or even for the money. He does it because he’s forced to, by his circumstances. Like I was nearly forced to marry Frankie, and Guilia was almost given to Dante.
“Come swim with me, Chiara!” I glance up to find Guilia standing just inside the tiled pool room, calling out to me through the open glass door. She’s dripping water all over the place, but she’s barely avoiding what must be expensive carpet in the sitting room. Did I say my family was weighing me down? I meant my father and his mob ties, not my sister and brother. Never them.
I smile at Guilia, because it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. “Okay,” I reply, just as I hear my phone jingle. I pick it up to find a text message from Angelina. Your boyfriend shot my brother in law. He will pay, and so will you. Frankie is more angry than I’ve ever seen him, and he’s gunning for you.
Well, this is just fucking fantastic. I’ve never seen Frankie angry, or sad, or happy. I’ve only ever seen Frankie emotionally unattached. I don’t want to think of what he might be like when he’s pissed off.
I have to send a text to Misha. I have to know the truth, because I don’t trust Angelina in this situation. She could be lying just to make the Russians look bad. Did you kill Dante Moretti?
I don’t know why I feel this way, like I should be upset about it. Why should I give a shit if Dante is dead? That just means Guilia can go home, and I won’t have to worry about her being married off to him. No, that’s not why I’m upset. I’m upset because I know they will come after us for sure now. No matter where we go, if Misha killed Dante, we will never be safe. Dimitri’s suite is luxurious, yes, but I couldn’t live here indefinitely. It would quickly turn into a prison.
Misha answers faster than I expected him to. No, Dante isn’t dead and I didn’t shoot him. We are meeting Frankie now. Wish us luck.
That’s not what I wanted to hear, either. I’m not happy that Dante isn’t dead, and I almost wish Misha had killed him. Does that make me a bad person? And I really don’t want Misha meeting with Frankie, if he’s really that pissed off.
I send Misha another text. According to Angelina, Frankie wants your head on a silver platter. Please be careful. Good luck.
I have so much to worry about, and Guilia is having the time of her life, with her own personal manservant waiting on her hand and foot.
I take a few steps toward the pool, while glancing at my phone. When I finally look up, I nearly run into Beso, who is carrying my sister’s favorite soda. His dark eyes are fixed ahead of him, and when he notices I’m near he says, “Excuse me, miss.” His tone is respectful. His expression is almost empty. His eyes, though, are burning when he glances at me.
The last thing this man wants to do is hit on my sister. I will introduce him to his balls, up close and personal, after I remove them.