Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Back at my aunt’s, I sit in darkness and watch Mom sleep. She looks fragile in a bed designed only for one, and her breaths are shallow and uneven. I’d give anything to pound out my frustration with a five-mile run before downing shots like I’ve never had a hangover. Instead, I press my palms to my watering eyes and breathe through the burden drowning me on land.
The afternoon passes in a blur. I help my aunt with dinner and act as if it’s normal for a child to spoon-feed her parent before I get ready for my shift at the pub.
As taught, I empty the pockets of my skirt before placing it in the laundry hamper. A trickle of hope peeks out from beneath the dark swamping me when I remember the pamphlet Luca gave me. I try not to grant his promise of a big payday any attention, mindful that nothing good comes easy, but the more I strive to forget it, the more the crumpled pamphlet beckons me to it.
Dr. Russo discharged Mom with enough medication to last her four weeks, but after that, we’re on our own. I’ll have to pay for the next round. It won’t be the full rate since we’re on benefits, but the number of prescriptions she needs is more than I can afford.
The numbers I mentally crunch drop my heart to my feet. Months of scraping by and watching hope still slip through my fingers snaps something inside me.
Before I can talk sense into myself, I snatch up the crumpled pamphlet and dial the number on the back. I can’t save Mom with hope. I can’t pay for her life-saving treatment with pride. I need money—real money—and if the only way I can get that is by selling a part of myself, then so be it. I’ll do that.
In under a minute, I’m no longer the girl who came to Sicily for a fresh start. I’m a daughter and caregiver. I am whoever I need to be to save my mother’s life.
Even someone who’ll sell their soul to the devil, if they must.
4
GIOVANNI
As I navigate a well-known curve adjacent to Ospedale San Giorgio’s, I grip the steering wheel firmly enough to whiten my knuckles. The route, road, and bleak white building are identical sentinels. I’ve driven this journey so often over the past month that it’s become a ritual. I could do it blindfolded.
Each day I convince myself that today will be different, that I’ll see Valentina’s molten locks reflecting the morning light, and her curves moving through the crowd with that quiet confidence I can’t forget. But every day, disappointment waits for me at the curb.
The footpaths outside San Giorgio’s and the warehouse where Councilor Messina died remain lackluster and bland. The entrance doors of San Giorgio’s slide open and shut thousands of times a day, but never for Valentina.
My frustration has grown over the past month, and the silence has exacerbated it. I’ve exhausted every resource to find Valentina. I contacted hospitals nationwide, bribed county clerks for records, and leaned on favors worth far more than a raid on every Raimondi property in the area.
Nothing I’ve done has worked.
It’s as if she vanished from the face of the earth after exiting my SUV. I’d believe our meeting was a dream that dissolves when I wake if news of the truck driver’s murder weren’t still circulating the streets of Carlisle.
For an entire month—thirty fucking days—I’ve chased shadows. I should let it go. Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself to do precisely that. Let it go, Vanni. Focus on what matters. Family first.
What I say doesn’t matter. I dedicate several hours a day to my search.
My father’s empire, which was rebuilt after a second internal mafia war nearly destroyed the Cosa Nostra, demands constant vigilance. Deals in the billions, shipments, and rivals who’d give anything to catch me unawares all require attention. There’s no time for distractions, yet I keep driving the same streets, unable to break the cycle of my obsession.
I stiffen my grip on the wheel when the city’s skyline appears ahead. Horns blare, and Carlisle residents continue unaffected by my internal conflict.
I saved her.
Me.
That should mean something. You don’t pull someone back from the brink of death and then walk away like it never happened. That morning plays in my mind a minimum of three times a day. Even after a month, I can still recall the softness of Valentina’s curves and the way her breath hitched when her terrified eyes finally found mine.
It isn’t solely her fear that keeps my search alight. Beneath sparks hot enough to scald and an attraction that made me rock hard, a previously unventured, yet worth fighting for, challenge awakened within me.
I’m fucking clueless why the hook sank in so deeply this time. Valentina is a stranger. I have a name, a face, and a moment frozen in time. That’s all I have. But it’s enough to keep me stalking the streets at all hours, even while knowing I should let it go.