Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
She nods, blinking back moisture that gathers in her eyes.
“Elena,” I say again. “If he’s hurting you—”
“How am I supposed to get that kind of information?”
“Do you have the password for his computer?”
She makes a face. “What do you think?”
“Can you get access to his bank account?”
Her smile is wry. “He closed the account my father opened for me. I don’t have a credit card or a penny at my disposal. Raphael pays for whatever I need. It’s his way of controlling me.”
Wow. What a dick. “How about his banking details then—an account or wire transfer number?”
She picks up her spoon and stirs her tea. “He doesn’t share those details with me.”
I motion at her mug and point out gently, “The sweetener isn’t a good idea. It can be harmful for the baby.”
Distress flickers through her eyes. She darts a hand under the table and cups her stomach before catching herself and awkwardly placing her palm back on the tabletop.
I can’t stand by and let Raphael hurt her or the baby. “Elena, it’s obvious you need help and—”
“I’ll do it,” she says with more force than necessary. Making an obvious effort to calm herself, she continues in a quieter tone, “I’ll find a way to get the information.”
I didn’t bargain on leaving here being worried about her, but I didn’t expect to find a woman who’s clearly abused. There’s a lot to be said about Saverio, but he’s always put my and my baby’s health first.
“If you’re going to put yourself at risk—” I start.
“I know someone…” She hesitates. “Someone who works for Raphael who I can trust.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want the information or not?” she snaps.
“You know what? Forget about the information. I’ll get you that passport anyway.”
Her tone is cutting. “No.”
I give a start.
“A deal is a deal,” she continues. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s concern, not pity. There’s a difference.”
She grabs the elegant clutch bag that lies on the table. “You can’t call or email me. Raphael checks my phone and my emails.”
“Is that why you can’t arrange a fake identity yourself?”
“Even if I had the money, I don’t have the contacts.” She stares into her mug. “Not since Papa got sick.”
“How will you manage on your own?” At the frown that snaps her eyebrows together, I add, “Once you’re somewhere else?”
She gets up and pulls her back straight. “Rachele already has a plan. She’ll make sure I have enough cash to help me get on my feet.”
When she takes a bill from her bag and leaves it on the table, I say, “That’s okay. I’ll get it.”
Her smile is pitying, as if I’m the one she needs to feel sorry for. “Raphael will ask questions if someone paid for my tea.”
“I see,” I say, the disquiet inside me intensifying.
“I’ll call you from a burner phone when I have something. I’ll let you know to which number you can send proof of the passport.”
“I’ll need a set of passport photos.”
“I have electronic ones I had done to change my passport with my new surname after the wedding. I’ll text you the link and the password to access them.”
“Where will you get one? A burner phone, I mean.”
Slipping the bag under her arm, she clutches it against her side. “From the same someone who can get me a key to Raphael’s office.”
“If that plan puts you in any danger, the deal is off.”
She tilts her head. “The deal is on, stupid little girl. It’s too late to back out.”
I stand. “If something goes wrong, I’ll get you out.”
“I don’t need you to save me,” she says, looking down her nose at me. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m saving myself.”
With that, she walks from the shop.
I wait a good five minutes before I go over to the bar where Livy sits in a black trench coat with a black scarf around her hair and oversized sunglasses on her face.
She lowers the cappuccino she’s been sipping. “Will she come through?”
“Yes.” I frown. “I hope so.”
“Good.” She hops from her seat. “That was kind of boring. I was hoping for more action.”
“More action?”
“It’s a pity I never got to use my gun.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Saverio
* * *
The sound of feminine laughter reaches me where I sit hunched behind my desk, combing through my assets for money I can salvage from God only knows where and finding too little.
I turn the left side of my face toward the door and prick up my ear.
If I concentrate hard, I can distinguish Livy’s voice but only because she’s uncharacteristically loud. Before, I would’ve been able to nail the identity of each visitor by their intonation alone. Now, I can’t even make an accurate guess of the number of bodies in my house.
Livy must be talking to the men doing the night rounds. She always takes them a flask of hot chocolate and home-baked cookies before she goes to bed.