“Don’t come back in tonight,” the shorter to the two grunts.
And I wish he’d punctuate his order with a punch.I could take these two, no problem.But luckily, they just leave it at that.A first warning, I suppose.
The sidewalk and the boardwalk on the other side of the two-lane road packed with cars is twice as crowded as the hotel lobby.And golden blonde heads are everywhere.
I fucked up so bad.
But it wasn’t even tonight.I fucked up that first night I followed Goldie into the alleyway where that Russian asshole took her.
Where did she learn to lie so well?To deceive so cunningly?
Or is it all on me?Wanting to believe her lies so bad that I did?
All pointless questions.Because if I don’t find her tonight, I’m as dead as her and her family.
And that can’t happen.
Because whatever else happens, I’d never survive her death.Despite everything.She is mine.
Chapter23
GIANNA
The crowdby the reception desk was a godsend.I’d mostly sobered up from the wine by then, the vodka gave me courage, and the fun I had at the roulette table gave me hope.Because it was fun.An hour stolen from a life I could be living.A life I wanted to one day live.And with the person I wanted to live it with.It was almost as exciting as those stolen moments we shared in the beginning.In my bedroom at night, walking in central park, on the beach.Before he painted it with the blood of my family.Literal and metaphorical.
So the important thing I stole during that hour in the casino was a few chips that we were betting with.I hid them in my bra when he wasn’t looking.
And I must’ve looked like the worst sort of crazy lady as I fished them out to exchange them for cash.Just shy of five hundred dollars.Should get me far enough away from here.
I couldn’t take the bag with my clothes, because he was carrying it and it’d be too suspicious if I tried to take it to the ladies’ room with me.As it is, I was shocked he just let me go.I thought I’d have to climb out the ladies’ room window to get away from him, because he’d be guarding the door.
I kicked off the high heeled shoes as soon as I exited the hotel, and I’m sure they’re long gone by now.My bare feet were all bruised and battered by the time I found a normal convenience store to buy some flip flops in, along with a tracksuit and a phone.That left me with about 350 dollars to get out of Atlantic City.
Doable.But it’s not enough to live on.And I had horrible waking nightmares imagining myself having to sell my body for cash as I changed out of the crazy expensive dress and into the tracksuit behind a dumpster in an alleyway that smelled like vomit, piss and rotting garbage.
I considered keeping the dress, thinking I might be able to sell it.Or use it in my new streetwalking career.But then I tossed it in the dumpster.Because it won’t come to any of that.And I have so many pretty dresses at home.Which is where I’ll be soon.Not alone on the street.
I rushed to the beach and ran until I reached a spot away from all the loud noises and lights.Where I could finally hear the waves licking the shore and feel the ocean breeze on my face.Only there did I finally feel like I could breathe again.Which quickly changed as I dialed the number my dad told us to memorize for emergencies and it didn’t even ring, much less go to a voicemail with instructions.It just gave me a sharp busy tone.
I dialed my dad’s number next and hearing his voice on the voicemail made me choke up, the ocean air cutting my throat as I tried to breathe.Same with Mom’s number.Same with Lidia’s.
I dialed the emergency number five more times after that.My hands shaking, my throat seemingly full of sharp glass.
I’ve just been sitting in the sand for at least an hour now, the night growing colder and colder, dialing and redialing my mom’s number just to hear her voice on the phone.
You’ve reached Bianca Codelli.Please leave a message or send a text.Thank you.
My sisters and I made her add thesend a textpart.It was years ago, on the porch at the Hamptons house, a warm, early summer day, the wonderful scent of jasmine in the air and the sea sparkling like diamonds.She’d just gotten a new phone.We all had.It was before any talk of marriage.Before my first fiancé came and went and my curse became apparent.Before my brother Antonio was killed.And certainly before Matteo working for Ferro took everything away from me.
I called my mom’s voicemail so many times that the battery on my phone started beeping, showing only 5% left.
What do I do now?
The only thing I can think of is going to the police.But what do I even tell them?That I’m the daughter of a NYC mob boss and I’ve been abducted by his rival?Best case scenario, they’ll think I have a mental condition.Worst case, they won’t do anything for me at all.
My family has no great love for the police, for obvious reasons.I’ve grown up mistrusting them, except the few that are family.But I can’t even remember their names, let alone where they live.
“Are you all alone here, little girl?”a sleezy, slurred voice asks from the darkness.
