Page 16 of Married to the Mafia Devil

I called Pamela too, told her not to come around tonight. The last thing I need is anyone else at risk because of me. Now all that’s left is to call Amelia. I need to know she’s okay despite Matteo’s promises.

I hold my breath until my call connects. “Amelia?” I ask, pacing slightly, my gaze wandering to the expansive windows overlooking the river. The view is breathtaking. I turn back. The room is spotless, everything organized exactly how I would lay this place out. How did I not notice that when I first got here? It’s perfect.

“What happened, Emma? Are you safe?” Her voice is tinged with worry. “Where are you?”

“I'm fine,” I reply. “The men who took me were the same ones who hired Dad. They took me to a brothel, wanted to use me to bargain with Matteo but he came and saved me before anything happened. Brought me here, to his place.” Even to my own ears, the story sounds surreal, like something out of a dark fairy tale. “He says I have to marry him to stay safe.”

“What? Why?”

“Because this guy, Igor Petrovitch, he’s behind it all. He wants whatever is in the suitcase that Dad moved. If he finds out about me, he might try to hurt me. Matteo wants to keep me here while he deals with Petrovitch. But what about you? Are you all right?”

“There are men guarding the apartment, but they haven't tried to come in since they put alarms on all the windows.” Her words bring a small measure of relief, but the knot in my stomach remains. “I’m worried about you though. You need to go to the cops. You were kidnapped.”

“I tried that. They weren’t interested. Matteo says this is the only way to keep me safe.”

“Seriously?”

“He made it clear I don't have a choice in this.” My voice is flat, resigned. “I'll do it, Amelia, because it means you'll be safe. You keep your protection and your therapist as long as I do what he says. He said it’ll only be until Petrovitch is dealt with then we can get it annulled if I want.”

“Oh, shit, I’ve got another call.” She pauses. “It’s Dr. Summers. I’ll get her to call me back.”

“No, take the call. I’m not going anywhere. Just let me know if you hear anything from Dad. I don’t know if this Petrovitch asshole will be after him.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She ends the call. I approach the floor to ceiling bookcase, drawn to the one book slightly out of alignment. As I straighten it, I smile. Les Miserables, Volume One. Fate sure is amusing herself today.

Matteo's voice breaks the silence. “Read the best books first or you may not have chance to read them all.”

“Thoreau” I reply with a smile, spinning around to find him looking gorgeous in another immaculate suit. “My Mom used to say that to me.”

The sight of him gets my insides churning in a way I don’t like. His gaze follows my hands, landing on the spine of the book.

“Wasn’t lined up straight,” I say by way of explanation. “Wanted to fix it.”

“First edition,” he replies. “Tenth anniversary gift from my father to my mother. It was her favorite book.”

“It was my mum's favorite too,” I admit. The memory of her gentle voice reading out loud comes flooding back with aching clarity. “She used to say it was the perfect story if you wanted to read about redemption. Just ignore the diversion into the Paris sewage system for about a hundred pages.”

“Hugo did digress a little from time to time.” Matteo nods, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “I always thought it was about injustice. Javert chases Valjean with more venom than any rational man should have. If he’d had better control of his emotions he wouldn’t have died. Valjean was just one more petty crook amongst thousands. He shouldn’t have gotten so involved.”

I can’t help but smile. “That’s what I said to her the first time I read it.”

He comes over, taking the first volume from the shelf, gazing down at it. “I picked it up again after my parents died. Made me think of the rivalry between my father and Petrovitch. The two of them spinning around each other in some kind of circle of violence and hatred.”

“They didn’t get on? How come?”

He sighs. “The old story. Petrovitch wanted something he couldn’t have.”

“What?”

“My mother. She was the most popular girl in the city. Petrovitch was jealous that my dad married her. Called him a cheat, couldn’t believe she would choose my father over him. Bided his time, waited for his revenge. Killed them both in the end when he realized he’d never win her. Decided if he couldn’t have her, no one could.”

His voice hardens, the pain of the past palpable in the air. “Not that I’ve ever been able to prove it. The guy who did it died in custody the same day. Dropped dead of a heart attack. So they said.”

I see the pain flickering in the corner of his eyes. Not so emotionless after all, I think. “That must have been awful.”

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