Apparently I’m forgiven because she doesn’t argue with me about it.
“But Emilio couldn’t get the Madam to release me,” she goes on. “She became suspicious; maybe he talked to her about releasing me one too many times, I don’t know, but the plan backfired and the Madam decided to keep me in the mansion indefinitely. I should’ve been released two years ago—no one would buy me anymore; I’m twenty-four years old—but she knew, she knew Emilio loved me, and she wasn’t about to set me free. She couldn’t prove it, but she wanted to prove it. She could’ve just killed me on the suspicion alone, but she didn’t. I don’t know why.”
“Because of Emilio,” Izzy says. “She loves him and wants him to love her back, but by killing Sian”—Izabel looks at me—“she knew that would push him over the edge; he’d never forgive her. But the baby, that changed everything; the ultimate betrayal, and then it was Francesca who could never forgive. She would do anything to get back at her brother: killing Sian, or selling her to someone—a man—who’d not only hurt her, but violate her on a daily basis—it was the ultimate revenge against her brother.”
I agree with Izzy’s hypothesis.
“Enough about that,” Nora speaks up, walking around my chair in her panties and tank, her arms crossed. “Tell us about the cyprians: how do we find them?”
“I-I don’t know. All I know is what I told you. I’m sorry. What are you going to do with me?”
That is the burning question—what the hell am I going to do with this girl? The whole plan has gone to shit now that I’ve spent all of the client’s budget on Sian; now that I have her here and not Olivia Bram.
“Where are you from?” I ask.
Sian’s gaze strays; there’s a sadness in her eyes.
“My family lived in Miami when I was taken,” she says. “But that was so long ago. I don’t know if I have a family anymore. But you don’t understand—I can’t leave here without Emilio and our daughter. I won’t.”
I get up from the chair.
“Izzy,” I say, walking over to the closet in only my boxers, “I’m going to meet with Francesca in half an hour. You and Nora are going to stay with the girl; Nora will fill you in—and don’t argue with me about it; Francesca specifically requested I meet with her alone.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Good.” I step out of my boxers and into a fresh pair, then take a clean suit from the closet. I need a fucking shower, but it’ll have to wait.
“Have you ever heard of doing that shit in private, Niklas?”
“No, Izzy,” I tell her, buttoning my pants. “You should take your clothes off more often in front of people—it’s nice under there.”
She snarls at me.
“I’m assuming,” Nora says, “you need one of us to contact the client and let him know we’ll have Francesca for him? What time should we tell him to meet you at the drop-off?”
“Don’t worry about calling him,” I say, fitting my arms into my dress shirt. “I’ll contact him myself when I have a better idea.”
“What are you going to do?” Izabel asks.
“What I came here to do.”
“And does your plan,” Izabel says, “involve Olivia Bram in any way?” She looks up at me with accusation.
“It was never gonna happen, Izzy. You knew it wasn’t going into this. I know you had hope—you survived, after all—but your situation was one in a million. Sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for Olivia Bram.”
I turn on my heels and leave, feeling stung by that wounded look on Izzy’s face when I shut the door.
Niklas
I drive a rental to the mansion so I have a way back—can’t very well pull any of this off with one of Francesca’s men as my getaway driver. Already things will be difficult because it’s broad daylight, and because I still get frisked for weapons at the front door and will be without my gun.
But I have a plan. Some of it I went over with Nora last night. I feel bad about not waking Izzy up to let her in on the discussion, but it is what it is.
Nora and Izabel’s job is to watch over Sian—mainly so she doesn’t try to run and end up causing us any trouble—and to get everything packed; leave the hotel and be waiting for me on our private plane.
I’m going to drug Francesca and use Emilio to help me get her out of the mansion—Sian is the trade. It has to work. It’s the only plan I have.
Izabel
“Please—I’m grateful that you people are helping me,” Sian says, “but I can’t leave Italy without Emilio and our daughter. I just can’t!”
“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing her face carefully, forcing her gaze. “If you don’t leave with us now, you’ll end up dead. Emilio will end up dead. This is the way it has to be done. You go with us to the United States and”—I shouldn’t say this but I’m going to anyway—“and after you’re safe where no one can find you, I’ll do what I can to find your baby. And Emilio.”