JOSEPH
The fact that I’m here at all is inconvenient, and the reason—well, let’s just say I would rather gouge my own eyes out than fulfill my father’s latest wild scheme.
The woman shivering beside me is nothing like I imagined my wife to be. Not that I imagined ever taking one, but at least I believed I had that choice. More fool me!
Conversation is unnecessary. I have no desire to reassure her. Why would I? She is nothing to me. Merely a tick box on my list of things to do today.
Unlike my brothers, who collected their wives from this place of damnation, I have left nothing to chance. I rapped my inked knuckles on the door and demanded my wife. The sister had no choice but to hand her over because the story I fabricated drove fear into her heart. I saw it. The way her eyes widened at the thought of her precious nun ever being in the dock for murder.
Then there is the inconvenience of the missing keys. The one thing I was interested in learning the secret of, and I turn to the woman beside me for answers.
“Tell me about the keys.”
“Why do you want to know?”
The tone of her voice interests me. There is no fear attached, no shaking syllables and no fucks to give, and I’m almost impressed. I was led to believe that she is the scared shitless one. The fact that she decided not to leave the convent told me as much, and yet the woman beside me sounds almost belligerent.
“Because I do. Answer me.”
“I know nothing about the keys other than they exist.”
She turns away, and it amuses me to see her crossed fingers resting on her lap. The way her jaw is set in determination and the slight flush to her cheek tells me she is lying. I’m impressed that a nun considers lying at all, and for a second, I stare at her, noting how she pretends to ignore me but is tense as she almost stops breathing.
My fabricated lie to get her to leave with me is a fun scenario to play with, so I lean back in my seat and say darkly, “Why are you on a murder charge? Did you kill your father?”
“Of course not.”
She turns to face me, and the fire in her eyes is interesting. It chases away the nerves and reveals a little more of the personality behind the frown.
“Then why is your stepmother heading this way with a warrant for your arrest?”
Lying comes naturally to me when it delivers information, and she shakes her head with an angry frown.
“She’s not my stepmother.”
I say nothing and she hisses, “That woman was my father’s mistress and never his wife, and if anyone should be on a murder charge, it’s her.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because she’s evil and perfectly capable of murder, and he is dead after all.”
She turns away, leaving me with an interesting fact to dwell on. She is correct on all accounts, and I wonder about herfather’s death. Something isn’t sitting well with me, call it a premonition. I’ve seen Enrico Zaferelli’s medical records. He was a man who made certain that his health was investigated along with his many business deals. A heart attack was listed as his cause of death, but could be just a cover-up. He had no history of heart trouble, and his body was burned to ash at an impressive speed. Morgan didn’t hang around, and I wonder what she hoped to gain from that.
“Tell me about her?”
“No.”
Her anger is evident, and she turns to me, and the daggers in her expression are so sharp I could be dead if I leaned a little closer.
“I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Ravera. You are merely my escort to a place I would rather not be going, so forgive me if conversation is the last thing I’m interested in.”
“Where would you rather be?”
Not that I give a fuck, but I’m not done with this conversation yet. Now is the perfect time to get answers while we are locked in a moving car, and I won’t waste this opportunity.
“The convent, of course. I didn’t want to leave. I was well, forced shall we say, and the only reason I agreed to come with you was to save Sister Agatha from your deadly intention.”
“My deadly intention.”
