Page 21 of Tainted Love

Rubbing my hands over my face, I nod to acknowledge Emylyah’s question as I will myself to calm down and act like a normal human being while Róisín babbles on. “I have plans to spring you from confinement,” she says, a mischief dancing in her eyes, which has my heart rate kicking up again until I realize she’s not actually talking about freeing me. Just liberating me from this particular room. Emylyah gives Róisín a dubious look as she takes a seat on the chair beside me. "What kind of plans?" she asks, her voice laced with a caution I'm sensing is inherent to her character. And probably for good reason. I see myself in her to some extent.

Róisín smirks, her eyes glinting with excitement, and it occurs to me this girl undoubtedly delights in causing trouble. Nothing malicious, but enough to keep her older brothers on their toes.

I like that about her, but I sincerely hope it doesn’t backfire so the repercussions land on me.

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued by Róisín's proposition, nonetheless. Despite my reservations, the idea of leaving this confinement stirs a flicker of hope within me.

Could this be my chance to escape? Or at least to scope out the options and opportunities?

Plucking at the fresh pair of boxers and the oversized t-shirt that have become my daily attire since I was brought here, I ask the obvious question. “What do you have in mind? I don’t exactly have the right wardrobe for wandering around, even inside this compound.”

She waves a hand like it’s nothing. “Oh, I’ll find you some clothes. I figure you're about the same size as me. Maybe a little thinner, but nothing we can't deal with.” A small frown appears between her brows. “I should have brought you something already. It never occurred to me that Ciaran hadn’t provided you with anything to wear.”

Her response reflects the level of her naivety despite the world she lives in, because I have no doubt my lack of regular clothing is deliberate. Something else that makes it all the more difficult for me to break free, since a woman dressed as I am, with only the addition of a pair of strappy, sequined sandals entirely inappropriate for making any kind of escape attempt, will elicit more attention than it’s worth, making it almost impossible for me to get very far.

Róisín continues to ramble on, oblivious to the turmoil within me as I contemplate the prospect. Her words fade into the background whilst my mind whirls with possibilities. It’s all one step at a time, after all, and getting my hands on regular clothes is a really massive first step.

My thoughts are like a thundering herd of wild horses galloping across my mind and stirring up a whirlwind of potential paths and outcomes. But amidst the chaos, there’s a sense of hope and excitement, like a ray of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky.

Emylyah raises a sceptical eyebrow but remains silent, doing nothing but observing the exchange between Róisín and me. Her presence brings a sense of calm to the room, grounding me in reality. I don’t know anything about her, but it occurs to me that she is far more streetwise than Róisín. I’m pretty sure she understands all the things that are whirling around in my mind, even if she’s too polite to say anything.

“So, how do you two know each other?” I ask, diverting the conversation a little when there’s a natural pause.

Róisín laughs, the sound clear and guileless. “Oh, Lyah and I go way back. We went to boarding school together and have been friends for years. We even managed to secretly stay in touch every time her whacked-out mother tried to disappear without a trace.”

Emylyah nods, and I acknowledge the red flags all over Róisín’s words. There’s a whole iceberg beneath the surface that isn’t being mentioned. I can’t help wondering what the story is, but neither girl is forthcoming.

“You go by Lyah?” I ask, keeping my tone light and conversational and pushing down the guilt that I’m shamelessly pumping my new ‘friends’ for any little bit of information that might help me.

She gives a small smile and shrugs. “It’s less of a mouthful.”

“So, you live close by, I guess?”

Emylyah purses her lips like she doesn’t want to say too much, and somehow, her reaction appears to go beyond a natural desire for privacy. Of course, Róisín has no such issues. “She didn’t until she got married, but she met Nikolai while she was visiting one summer, and the rest is history. Janey Mack! Remember how nuts your mother went when she found out you were in Manhattan?” she comments to Lyah as an aside.

The other girl responds with a small smile, and Róisín turns to me and continues. “Now I only have to trek over to Brighton Beach to see my bestie.”

The location waves another red flag. I’ve found out way more than I ever wanted to know about organized crime during my incarceration by the Viper, so I know Brighton Beach is where the Bratva are located. It also cements my suspicions about Emylyah’s accent, but I concentrate on the other nugget of information, sensing I shouldn’t push too hard, or I’ll send this aloof woman running.

“You’re married?” I ask in genuine surprise, and I can’t help darting a look at her left hand. Sure enough, a wedding band glints in the bright mid-morning sunlight streaming through the suite’s tall windows.

Lyah’s cheeks heat adorably, and she ducks her head. “Yes, for a little over two years now.”

I pat her shoulder, genuinely bemused. “I don’t know why it surprises me. I was supposed to get married myself a few days ago.”

A shudder rips through me at the very thought, and I guess it must have shown on my face because Lyah narrows her eyes and asks her own questions. “You don’t seem heartbroken to have that snatched away from you.”

Whether it’s merely an observation or not, I make a snap decision that I need to have these girls on my side. So, I tell them the truth about my engagement to Vito - the Viper - Rossi.

Chapter Seventeen

MARICELA

Róisín looks at me with what can only be described as abject horror. “So, you’re saying your own father sold you to the Cosa Nostra, and you’ve been a captive there ever since?”

She hesitates for a moment, choosing her words with care. “Those marks I saw on your back that first day…” There’s a slight wobble to her voice, and she looks away for a moment. “Was that him? The man you were supposed to marry?”

Biting my lip hard to retrench all the emotions bubbling to the surface, I finally huff out a breath. “Yes.”

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