Page 57 of Lily

Roselia hadn’t thought it was possible for Gemma’s face to get any whiter, but it did. “Eighteen years ago?” She glanced at Carol and back at Roselia. “My mother died eighteen years ago,” she whispered. “Is Stefano his real name?”

“I think so. I knew him as Marco Gallo when he worked for Santo. Apparently, that was an invented persona, though.”

Gemma shook her head and looked toward Carol again. “Could he be Mario Rizzo also?”

Carol pulled out her phone. “I don’t know, hon. Let me see if I can find out.”

Gemma started crying.

Kally leaned in closer to her, holding her tight. Nora scooted over to her other side and hugged her also.

Roselia was confused. “Who’s Mario Rizzo?”

“He was my mother’s bodyguard. He was with her when she was murdered in a boating accident. They never found his body.”

Roselia’s spine went rigid as goosebumps covered her skin. How many names did Stefano have?

Carol rubbed her forehead. “I knew Stefano Bianchi. I was new with the FBI when he disappeared, but I met him a few times in passing before he went undercover. Stefano is his real name. He wouldn’t have used that undercover. He would’ve been assigned another name.”

Summer nodded. “If he survived that accident and knew Santo had arranged it, perhaps he was furious enough to go after Santo. He would’ve needed a new alias.”

“Marco Gallo,” Roselia murmured.

The room was silent except for Gemma’s soft sniffles. “Why would my mother’s bodyguard work so hard to avenge her death?”

Roselia knew the answer. It was suddenly very clear. Stefano’s words from earlier in the week echoed in her head. “I’ve only been in love one other time, and I failed her.” She lowered her gaze, saying nothing.

“They were in a relationship,” Gemma finally murmured.

No one spoke. Roselia didn’t want to confirm or deny that fact. She was guessing herself, but, more importantly, this was very painful for Gemma. It would be hard to hear that your own mother had been having an affair and died while she was with the man.

The door opened behind Roselia, and she spun around to find Damon striding into the room. He rushed over to Gemma. Kally and Nora released her so he could pull her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. As soon as I realized what you might be piecing together in here, I came.” He held her close and rocked her back and forth.

A tight ball formed in Roselia’s stomach, and she stared at the open door, willing Stefano to come through it. She didn’t really believe he would, but she wanted his arms around her. She wanted him to tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted to see him, touch him, smell him. She needed him.

She felt horrible for Gemma, and maybe it was weird that she’d spent the last nine days developing a deep relationship with the man who’d had an affair with Gemma’s mother, but it had been eighteen years ago. Had he even been in any relationship at all in eighteen years? She kind of doubted it. He’d been singularly focused on avenging his woman’s death.

Should Roselia be scared of him? Maybe she shouldn’t feel as strongly as she did for him. He’d done a lot of sketchy things in the past two decades. He’d apparently had a relationship with a client, faked his own death, and devoted his life to revenge. What had he planned to do to destroy Santo? He hadn’t even known Santo was trafficking women until recently.

Grace and Summer flanked Roselia and embraced her.

“None of this is your fault,” Grace pointed out.

“She’s right,” Summer agreed.

That may be true, but who is the man I’m in love with?

Flashes of the last nine days filled her mind. His devotion to her. The way he’d cleaned her welts and put ointment on them. The way he’d washed her in the shower when she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. The way he’d patiently stayed by her side at all hours of the day and night so she wouldn’t panic.

He’d cooked for her. Laughed with her. Bought her books. Held her day and night. He hadn’t even pressured her to have sex with him. She’d had to make that move on her own.

This morning, she’d awoken to find a totally different man in the kitchen, one who’d been filled with guilt and frustration. He’d been so devoted to taking care of her that he’d ignored reality. She knew he’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to leave town with her, take her far away, leave the country even.

He would have done that for her. He would have done anything for her. But reality had pressed down on him. If he’d left with her, Santo would have gotten away with everything. Not only would all five other women spend their lives in fear of him finding them again, but he could have picked up more women. Six. Twelve. A hundred? The man had no scruples. He only cared about lining his pockets.

Santo was filthy rich. Roselia knew that. Her mother had always said she’d been lucky to get a job working for a man that rich and that Roselia should also count her blessings. When Roselia had asked her mother what the man did, her mother had shaken her head. “It doesn’t matter what he does, child. Keep your head down and do your job.”

Had her mother known how horrible of a person Santo was? It didn’t matter now. Her mother was gone, and Roselia had no one. Nothing. Not even her job.

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