"I'll see what I can do."
I cut the call and take a deep breath.
"Do you still have a priest on speed dial?" I ask Riccardo.
He nods. "My uncle's friend."
"Call him. Matteo has decided to marry Giulia today."
While Riccardo goes to make the call, I pick up my phone and message Elio, instructing him to handle the paperwork. Hereplies within seconds, telling me it will be handled. I set the phone down and think about Violetta locked in my basement.
Intending to go for a shower and get changed, I get up and head into the corridor. Somehow I find myself walking downstairs instead.
Riccardo said he put Violetta in the better cell, by which I assume he meant the one with the cot to sleep on. I go to the door and look through the window.
Violetta is asleep, still wearing that damned corset that got my blood pumping so hard I couldn't think straight. Her hair has come loose and is spread out on the thin pillow. Lying on her side with her arm twisted behind her, can’t be comfortable, and for a brief second I entertain the idea of going in there and rearranging her position.
I resist the urge, but I do stand there watching her for longer than I intended.
When I finally pull myself away from the door, I go back upstairs, telling myself that I was simply checking she was securely tucked away, that I care nothing for this woman's comfort.
I almost believe the lie.
THREE
Violetta
Getting to my feet,I stretch out my arms and legs and then walk around the cramped room I woke up in. I should probably call it what it is, a cell.
There's no window except for the tiny glass panel in the heavy wooden door. It's too small to see through properly. The walls are rough and the stone floor uncarpeted. There's nothing in here but the cot I slept on last night. Its mattress is too thin to provide a barrier against the hard metal frame beneath it.
If I hadn't been sedated, I doubt I'd have got a minute's sleep. Riccardo did me a favor, I guess.
There's a deeply unpleasant smell in the room that makes me think I'm in a basement. It's not a place that's used much. I haven't been around death often enough to know what it smells like, but the odor of decay hints at something horrific happening within these walls.
There’s a dark stain on the floor that could be blood. Perhaps I'm imagining it. I hope I am.
I feel groggy. It's worse than a hangover. My mouth is dry and there's a sensation at the back of my head like someone is knocking on my skull. The harsh light from the single bulb hanging in the middle of the room isn't helping matters, but I suppose I should be grateful not to have been left in complete darkness.
I pace across the room, which can't be more than eight feet across, trying to gather my thoughts. When Damiano or one of his lackeys appears, I want to have my wits about me.
As I turn, I notice there's a bottle of water by the bed. I pick it up and discover the seal hasn't been broken. Wary in case the bottle has been tampered with in some other way, I examine it closely. Thirst overrides my fear that the water has been drugged.
Opening the bottle, I gulp down more than half. I stop when a wave of nausea hits me. Not trusting that I won't throw up, I sit on the cot. I shuffle toward the wall until my back hits it, then pull my knees up to my chest so I can rest my head on them.
With the boning from the damned corset poking into me, it's hard to get comfortable.
A cold realization settles over me. Giorgio told Elena I was sick last night. They won't question it if I don't appear for work for a few days. Nobody else will miss me. Not immediately. My mother and I aren't in regular contact these days and I only see my friends occasionally. They won't be sending out a search party for me anytime soon.
This is how people in Damiano's world vanish.
One minute they're there and the next they're gone. Helping that boy last night was the right thing to do, but is it worth the price I'll pay? My dreams for the future feel more distant than ever. I shouldn't have put college off for so long. Waiting until I had enough money saved was an excuse. I could have juggled studying and working. Millions of people do.
Perhaps a shallow grave is not in my immediate future. If I remain calm, I can convince Damiano of my innocence. Then, surely, he'll let me go. Won't he?
When a key turns in the lock, I straighten. The door swings open to reveal the man who holds my fate in his hands. He's wearing a different suit, navy this time, and his hair is slicked back. Clearly, Damiano had a better night than I did.
He looms in the doorway, blocking my only escape route. I wasn't going to risk running anyway. I know enough about my boss to suspect he'd enjoy chasing me down. The punishment he'd inflict might not be something I’d survive.
