Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
No doubt Nick is angry with me. What does that mean? What will the consequences be? I just pray they won’t involve my brother.
“I’ll make some phone calls and see what I can do about getting eyes on Dylan. I’ll throw around the Morelli name to help,” she offers, which does make me feel a little better.
“Thank you,” I barely say as my breath is being restricted by a potent mix of fear and guilt.
“So how do you like the house?” she asks, changing the subject.
“It’s beautiful. It’s like stepping into a storybook, but… I’m not sure I should have come here. If Nick finds out that you helped me—”
“He’ll what? I’m not scared of Nick Hudson. My name protects me from his wrath. So, don’t worry.” There’s a pause on the other line. “So once you get settled, you really need to walk down the dirt path along the river. It’ll take you to Loro Ciuffenna’s town center. There you’ll find a gelato store that is run by an older man and his wife. They make homemade gelato every single day that is life changing. You have to have it. Oh, and it’ll be closed from two to five-ish. Everything closes down in those small medieval towns around those hours.”
I take a mental note, but I don’t see myself relaxing enough to just walk outside and explore the city. I feel like I need the four walls around me to keep me safe. I don’t want to confess to Sasha just how scared I am.
“And remember that you’re Sasha Morelli. The staff there work for you. So feel free to ask for whatever you want and need. They’ll find it odd if you don’t.” She pauses as if waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she adds, “Take this time to enjoy yourself. Tuscany is a beautiful place to be. The food is amazing. Oh and Anton is a wonderful chef. Ask for his spaghetti. You won’t regret it.”
Anton. That’s his name.
“Sasha,” I say, swallowing back a lump of sadness that has found its way into the back of my throat.
“Don’t thank me again,” she cuts in. “We’re family.”
“You’ve done more for me than anyone in my life has,” I confess.
There’s a pause, and then she says, “That’s a shame.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make this up to you.”
“I’m not expecting you to.” I hear a knock in the distance on her side of the line. “I need to go, but I do expect you to call me whenever you can to keep me up to date. Take this time to just… be happy.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Thank you, Sasha. I’ll call soon.”
I hang up the phone and decide I need to make another phone call. I need to start thinking long term. I can’t stay in the Morelli vacation home forever, and I can’t keep pretending to be Sasha. I also know I can’t do this all on my own, and I can’t be too proud to ask for help from others. Calling Dylan is out of the question. I know they have men watching him, and though Sasha is probably right in believing that Nick won’t hurt Dylan regardless of his threats, the last thing I want to do is get Dylan more involved than he already is.
Even as I dial the number, my inner self is screaming at me to stop. I shouldn’t be calling. I shouldn’t bother. I’m making a mistake.
And yet… “Mom?” I say as she answers the phone.
“Lyriope?” I can hear her idiot husband in the background asking her who’s on the phone. “I’ve been meaning to call you. How are things?”
I roll my eyes. It’s been months and not a single call from my mother. I could be dead, and she’d have no idea. “Well—”
She cuts me off. “You should see Belize. It’s so beautiful here, and the people are so welcoming and—”
“I thought you were in Costa Rica,” I say.
“Oh yes, well, we were. But… a better opportunity popped up in Belize. There’re more money opportunities here. Jackson said it’s an untapped treasure chest.”
Of course he did. Classic Madison Bailey and her lowlife husband.
“Mom,” I say, swallowing back my pride that is demanding I hang up the phone immediately. “I need help.”
“Help? What do you mean?” I can hear her husband calling her, telling her they need to get going. “Hey, can this wait for another time? You got me and Jackson at a bad time. We were just walking into drinks with some new friends and—”
“Did you not hear me? I need help.” I want to scream at her and demand that she listens to her daughter for once in our lives.
“Yeah, I heard you. It’s just that we’re really in the middle of something, and I’m all the way in Belize. Can’t you call your brother or something?” She yells back to Jackson that she’ll be right there. “I’m sure Dylan will love helping you with whatever you need. I gotta go. Love ya.”