It didn’t make sense. All I knew about him was that he was extremely dangerous, and extremely damaged. I mean, yeah, he was good looking. But a lot of men I knew were. So, what made this one different? Why was he in my head?
As I wrapped a fluffy white towel around myself, I spotted the cell phone he’d given me on the counter.
I could call Logan. He would help me get the hell out of here. I was pretty sure I was on Luca’s property, because I remembered seeing a small house through the trees as we’d driven down the drive to the main house the day of the wedding. It would make sense that the mafia boss would keep his most trusted guys close.
Grabbing the phone, I started tapping in my brother’s number. But I hung up before it could ring. What the hell was I thinking? My younger brother couldn’t just storm the stronghold of a mafia boss armed with a textbook and his righteous indignation and demand they release his sister. He’d be shot before he foundthe house. If Tristan didn’t kill him—and I completely believed he’d carry out his threat—one of Luca’s other guards would gun him down the moment he stepped foot on the property. And I seriously doubted they’d take the time to ask questions first.
Tears filled my eyes as I set the phone back on the counter and finished drying off, wishing I had clean clothes to wear. Preferably something that covered me a little more. After combing my hair, I put my shorts and tank top back on and sat down on the closed toilet seat because it was better than sitting on the cold floor. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I hit redial. Logan didn’t answer, so I left a message letting him know I’d gotten a new phone and to save this number. I told him I’d talk to him soon, and put the phone back on the counter. Then I forced myself to think about what Tristan had told me before I’d turned the conversation around to him.
My stomach churned, and I stood up.
Standing in front of the mirror above the small sink, I stared at my image, trying to see if I had any features that could’ve come from Gino. It was hard to tell by the shape of our faces, because he was older and had some extra weight on him. My eyes were large and blue, his were brown and squished between his ample cheeks and his heavy brow. My hair was so dark it was nearly black. His, what was left of it, was salt-and-pepper gray.
My little brother’s image came to mind, but Logan looked a lot like me. Same dark hair and blue eyes, only his skin wasn’t as pale as mine. It was darker with the olive tones of Italians. Like Gino’s.
I huffed out a breath. No. It wasn’t possible.
But…what if it was?
I didn’t want to believe it. I really fucking didn’t. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember the man who’d been married to my mother. I knew he was Italian. But that was all. He was hardly ever around when Mom was alive. And after she’d died…
Well, the last thing I remembered from that time of my life was running into the living room and seeing my mother’s body on the floor, bright red blood staining the white carpet beneath her. Her eyes were filled with horror, and her mouth was open on a silent scream. And she was looking right at me and Logan.
I shoved the memory away. I didn’t like to think of my mother like that. I preferred to remember her smiling, her eyes glittering with life as she chased us around the yard or wove bedtime stories about princes and princesses trapped in castles with dragons.
Covering my mouth with one hand, I choked back a sob. I tried to imagine the vivacious woman I knew as a child with a man like Gino, but I couldn’t. However, if what Tristan had said was true, that made the events of the last few months make a whole lot more sense in a weird sort of way. The bet he’d made at the poker game. How he’d taken over my finances—and Logan’s—without blinking an eye. And the way he’d been acting while I lived in his house. How he’d acted almost guilty when we’d…we’d…
My stomach revolted and I bent over the toilet, flinging the lid open just in time. Oh, my god. Had I been fucked by my own biological father? Sucked his cock? Walked around on his arm like one of his whores in front of his associates?
Much as I tried to deny it, I kept thinking about how he’d acted around me. How he only came to me after he’d been drinking.How he seemed confused sometimes when we talked, like he thought I was someone else. Someone from his past.
Logan's been telling me my entire life how much I look like our mother. He still tells me that sometimes, and he still gets sad because I remind him so much of her.
Those times when Gino talked to me like I was someone else, did he think I was…
Her? My mother?
“Oh, my god.” Propping my elbows on the toilet seat, I held my head in my hands.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. I had copies of the paperwork from when Logan and I had been put into the foster system. If we were Gino’s, wouldn’t we have his last name? Gone to live with a family member if he didn't want us? Something?
I’d always assumed my mother didn’t have any family that would be able to take us in. But I did wonder about our father often, especially the first few years after she’d died. I’d never heard anything about what had happened to him, and kind of always assumed he’d died that day, too. It was better to think that than to know he just hadn’t wanted us anymore.
“Luna?”
I lifted my head and a thrill of excitement shot through me before I realized that wasn’t Tristan’s voice. I frowned at my reaction.
“Luna? Are you okay?”
He sounded genuinely concerned, so I got up off the floor and rinsed my mouth with water and mouthwash before coming outof the bathroom. My eyes immediately went to the floor outside of the cell, but the evidence of Tristan’s last visit had been cleaned up while I was in the shower. My face burned when I saw Enzo standing just outside the cell, looking both formidable and inscrutable in his expensive suit and dark sunglasses.
Oh, god. Had he cleaned up the mess Tristan left? I didn't really want to know. “What do you want?” I asked him sullenly.
“Tristan asked me to let you know that he had to go do something and he’d be back in a few hours.”
Picking up the blanket, I wrapped it around my shoulders. “Why the hell would I care if he’s here or not?” It’s not like I wanted him around, unless it was to release me from this godforsaken prison.
Enzo stared at me a moment, then reached up and removed his sunglasses.
