Giovanni took a breath and let it out. This was one of those moments he hadn’t wanted to get to until he knew Sasha was as much in love with him as he was with her. His eyes met Stefano’s. He detested that he would either have to put her off or risk losing her.
“Baby, I’m going to ask you to wait for me to answer that. I swear to you I will, but I fell in love with you because of who you are, not what. I’m hoping you did the same with me. Can you wait on that answer? Trust me that much?”
She was silent, studying his face. Her gaze went to Francesca and then Stefano. The clock seemed overly loud. Time stretched. Giovanni didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn.
Sasha nodded slowly. “I won’t stop thinking about it, and just to let you know, I’m very good at solving puzzles. For instance, I know whoever broke into my apartment is someone who was in the club that night. I know it. Nothing else makes sense.”
“Babe, someone can be across the street and see you and begin to fantasize,” Giovanni said gently. “It could be anyone.”
She nodded. “You’re right of course, it could be, but it isn’t. It’s someone in Aaron Anderson’s or John Darby’s party. Or one of those cameramen who were close to them.”
“Tell me why you’re so certain.”
“Because when someone’s shadow meets mine, I feel them. Sandlin felt you immediately and he could tell certain things about you. He practiced more than I did and he’s very good at reading people. I just get feelings, like dread.” She pulled her hand away and pressed it to her stomach. “I feel slightly sick if the person’s intentions aren’t very nice. I felt that in the club. The camera light and cell phones threw shadows all over that upper tier, and in particular, those two tables. That feeling was there and it was the same when I was in my home and also in the parking garage.”
Giovanni couldn’t deny that she was right. He’d felt dread as well. Even inside the Hendrick Center, he’d had the feeling that something wasn’t right, that they were in danger. Or he was. Or Sandlin was.
“That’s pretty damning evidence,” Stefano said. “If you felt that and recognized it, Sasha, why didn’t you say something to Giovanni?”
“Umm, maybe because we barely knew each other and I would have sounded like a loon?” The smile faded and Sasha shrugged and speared eggs Benedict onto her plate from the warmer. “I don’t ever talk about how my shadow connects with someone’s shadow and I can tell if they’re lying. Or that I can feel what they feel. It doesn’t matter that Sandlin talks about it all the time, no one believes what he’s saying because he has a brain injury. If I said it, they’d lock me up.”
Stefano nodded. “There are a few people in the world who can do that—feel emotions and intent when shadows touch. It’s exhilarating to say the least and nice when others have that ability so you don’t feel like you’re slightly crazy.”
“I definitely would have felt that way without Sandlin. When he first talked to me about it, I was really young. I’d been to the doctor’s office and they said I probably wouldn’t have to get a shot, but they all knew I would. I was upset that they’d lied to me and it didn’t make sense when I knew they’d been lying. Of course, I went to my big brother for answers because that’s what I always did. He told me that sometimes when my shadow touched another’s I would feel things about that other person. He said when I did, I needed to believe it. That I had it right. Then he explained that he had noticed it when he was very young as well.”
“Did you look at your shadow?” Giovanni asked. Francesca buttered toast fresh from the toaster and handed it to him. He took a bite and chewed, waiting for her answer.
“Of course. My shadow is different from others. It isn’t as solid. Well, that’s not the right way to put it. It’s got little shadows reaching out like arms or something, so my shadow can touch multiple shadows at once.” She reached for the pot of coffee.
Stefano got there first and poured the hot liquid into her mug. Francesca nudged the cream and sugar closer. “Did your mother or father have that same kind of shadow?”
Sasha’s gaze jumped to his face. His voice had been casual, but it was clear they were all waiting for her answer. “Both, as a matter of fact. They were extremely close and doted on Sandlin and me.”
“From what country did your family originate?” Again, Stefano sounded extremely casual. Too much so for someone like Sasha not to understand what he was asking was important.
Sasha sighed. “You know, if you just tell me what shadow blood means, I would understand what you were looking for and just give you the information. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Shadow blood is a term we made up,” Giovanni said. “We didn’t have anything else to call those who have shadows like ours, so when we were children, we referred to anyone with shadows that had those feeler tubes as someone with shadow blood.”
She nodded. “My grandparents on my father’s side immigrated from Russia to the United States, but his great-grandparents had gone from Sicily to Russia. Of course, our name changed from Spataro to Petrov and then to Provis when my father’s family came here. My mother’s family also came from Sicily, and her great-grandparents changed their name as well. My father said his great-great-grandfather had to change the name because it was too dangerous at that time to keep their original name, Spataro.”
Stefano and Giovanni both sat back in their chairs and regarded her with more care. Clearly, her father had been from a shadow riding family. Of course, the riders had escaped when the Saldis had attempted to wipe out every member, no matter how little blood in their veins; they wanted anyone related to the Ferraros stamped out. Only the riders escaped because they were able to slip into the shadows unseen. Most were gone when the massacre took place, and they took care to save the remaining family members before trying to avenge the deaths of their loved ones.
The mafia had risen to power, nearly taking the place of the government. Any other family who opposed them eventually came under attack. Most relocated. The Spataro family had been riders—at least her great-grandfather had been one. Giovanni leaned toward her. “Did your mother’s family settle in the same region of Russia as your father’s family?”
She shook her head. “No, according to the family history, the family immigrating from Sicily to Russia split up and hid in various regions. Whoever was hunting them would be looking for a concentrated amount of families from Sicily living close to one another. By splitting up, they were able to be safe.”
“How did your parents meet?” Giovanni knew, for his family, for all riders, and especially his mother, Sasha would be considered gold. A treasure, just like Mariko. When they had babies, those children would be strong in the gifts and abilities of a shadow rider. There were so few that all riders were expected to have children in order to always have protection for their families.
“Both were born here in the United States. My father’s family settled in Wyoming. His father liked the open spaces and the life of a cattle rancher. My mother was actually on vacation, and she happened to go into a bar where there was dancing. My father was there and they just hit it off. From what she said, they were inseparable from the moment they met.”
“Did they talk to you about their shadows?”
She shook her head. “Cattle ranching is an all-consuming business. We worked hard, from daylight or before until well after sundown. We grew our own food so there was gardening to do. We hunted for meat and fished for the same reason. My parents were loving and sweet, but they worked harder than any two people I’ve ever seen. At night, my dad would fall asleep in his recliner with Mom sitting on his lap. She’d sometimes talk to us in a hushed voice, but mostly she fell asleep on top of him.”
“Did you meet your cousins? Any aunts or uncles?”