by Kristy Tate
Clouds trailed over the moon, casting long, wavering shadows. Some animal scurried in the nearby trash bins. Shivering, Zane pulled his jacket tighter and bounced on the balls of his feet until his calves screamed in complaint.
Eventually, he grew tired of shivering, bouncing, and waiting, and he went to her house. He slipped around the side of the mobile home and peeked in her bedroom window. She lay on her bed, asleep, her blond hair fanning across her pillow.
Rage swept through him. His father’s words mocked him. A pretty little gold digger only interested in your money. Once she had known he’d been cut off, she’d...what? Why had she agreed to elope? He knocked on the window, determined to wake her, but Rufus appeared.
Zane left before the dog could alert the neighborhood and someone would call the police. Slowly, he climbed on his bike and headed back to Santa Monica.
FLORA WOKE ON THE HALL floor with a raging headache. She tried to brush the curls off her face, but her hands and feet were tied.
Sicily bounced into the room on her toes. She also had her hands and feet tied.
“What happened?” Flora asked.
“You fell and hit your head. Mom tied you up.”
“And you?” Flora twisted to get a better look at her sister and noticed a yellow and purplish bruise forming beneath Sicily’s eye.
“Not quite the same story, but close.”
Flora struggled into a sitting position. “Where is she now?”
“Her room’s empty.”
“We have to get out of here,” Flora said.
“How?”
Flora leaned back against the wall. “I’ll talk to Zane, but you’ll have to come with me. I’m not leaving you here.”
Sicily, for once, didn’t try to argue. She sank to the floor beside Flora and with her hands still tied behind her back, she tugged on the rope around Flora’s ankles. Working together, they were soon free.
“We need to hurry.” Flora rolled her wrists and ankles, waiting for circulation to return.
Sicily nodded.
Flora was dressed, but Sicily was still in the oversized T-shirt she slept in. It didn’t matter; Flora had clothes in her suitcase. She grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Sicily stumbled after her.
Outside, the sun was beginning to rise and the air smelled of gasoline and someone’s breakfast of bacon and eggs.
“Where’s Rufus?” Sicily froze on the front lawn.
“Maybe Mom took him?” Flora tugged on her sister’s hand.
“Where?” Sicily blinked back tears. “I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“I don’t either, but I don’t want to spend another night tied up, do you?”
Sicily shook her head and stumbled after Flora.
Flora’s suitcase banged against her leg as they walked the three miles to the gates surrounding the Wentworths’ property. Other than that first morning, she’d never been to Zane’s house. She knew Zane didn’t get along with his dad and tried to avoid him as much as possible.
“How are we going to get inside?” Sicily asked.
“I don’t know.” She studied the gates and realized they most likely had security cameras. But then she spotted something that turned her stomach. She grabbed Sicily’s hand and tried to tug her back down the long drive. “We have to leave.”
“No.” Sicily dug in her heels. “Not until you talk to Zane and tell him what happened. He’ll understand.”
“Sicily, look.” Flora lifted a shaky arm and pointed at the Chevrolet parked next to the wide steps of the Wentworths’ mansion. “It’s Mom’s car. Look, she’s leaving.”
Cass emerged from the heavily carved oak doors and tucked something into her purse. She had a cat-just-caught-a-mouse look on her face. Hatred strong enough to make her want to vomit rose in Flora’s throat. She pulled Sicily behind a patch of scrub oak. Silently, they watched Cass steer the Chevrolet down the drive. The big gates swung open. Flora let out a long breath when her mom’s car disappeared around the bend.
THE NEXT MORNING, ZANE’S dad called him. “Have you heard from your little girlfriend?”
Zane rolled to an upright position and glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. Because he had planned on being in Las Vegas as a married man, he now had an empty weekend—and life—in front of him. Bile rose in Zane’s throat. “What do you want?”
“Her mom’s claiming she’s carrying your child,” Weatherford announced. “Do you think that’s true?”
Zane felt as if he’d been punched. “What? That’s impossible.”
“That’s what she’s claiming. She said the chit has gone to live with relatives to have the baby.”
Zane’s gaze wandered around the tiny apartment he’d rented. Four blank white walls. A bed that dominated the room. A window that looked out at the back of a billboard. It would have been tolerable if Flora had been there. Now, it was as cramped and spiritless as a prison cell. “There’s no baby. We never had sex.”
Weatherford snorted. “I find that extremely difficult to believe.”
“Yeah, me too. But it’s the truth.” Flora had wanted to wait until they were married. He had found that cute, sweet, and more than a little frustrating. Now, he was grateful but also puzzled.
“So, this pregnancy...”
“...is a total lie.” Like everything else about Flora.
INDECISION FLITTED across Sicily’s face. “You still need to talk to Zane.”
“But not here. Not after Mom has spun her lies.”
“But this seems like a perfect time, Miss Hill,” a man’s voice said.
Flora jumped and Sicily let out a startled eep.
“Who, or what, was that?” Sicily whispered.
“You know I can see and hear you, yes?” he said again.
Holding Sicily’s hand, Flora edged toward the pillar.
“That’s right. Maybe you’re not as stupid as your mother.”
Sicily flushed an ugly red that contrasted with her purpling black eye. Flora shushed her before she could say anything.
The gates silently swung open.
“Come inside, my dears,” the voice entreated. “We have much to discuss.”
“Why do I feel like Daniel entering the lions’ den?” Sicily whispered as they followed the driveway and approached the wide stone steps leading to the mansion’s doors.
“Maybe because there are lions on the pillars?” She nodded at the statues on top of the pillars flanking the steps.
Sicily gave a nervous giggle. “Maybe he’s not so bad. He’s Zane’s dad, after all, and you love Zane.”
Flora bit her lip. She did love Zane, but was she really old enough to understand what that meant? She loved Sicily—would do anything for her. But that love had been growing for most of her life. She’d spent seventeen years looking out for and protecting her baby sister. Zane had been a summer thing.
But he’d wanted to marry her.
And she’d wanted to marry him. But was that because she loved him? Or because he was an escape hatch?
One of the double doors opened as they approached.
Zane’s dad looked like Zane—tall, thick dark hair, chiseled jaw—but broader, more powerful. He motioned for the girls to come inside.
The hall was airy, the ceiling soaring, and a chandelier with dozens of lights hung above them. It reminded Flora of an enormous spider waiting to fall from her web. She shivered and her nerves tingled.
Dr. Wentworth strode down a hall without saying a word. Hand in hand, Flora and Sicily shuffled after him. He paused in front of a door, held it open, and gestured for them to take a seat in front of the massive desk.
Cass’s perfume hung in the air as a sickening reminder. Flora wondered if she’d unintentionally chosen to sit in the same chair her mother had left.
Dr. Wentworth stood on the other side of the desk, looking like the judge of a miniscule courtroom. “I know why you’re here,” he began. Hi
s eyebrow twitched. “You wish to speak to Zane.” He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “But that will never happen.”
Sicily opened her mouth to say something, but Dr. Wentworth slashed the air with his hand. “I don’t want to hear your pathetic lies. I won’t believe a thing you say, just like I didn’t believe your mother. All I want to know is, how much will it take for you to go away?”
“Go away?” Flora felt the blood leaving her head and traveling to her belly, where it festered.
“Yes. I want the two of you and your terrible mother to disappear from my son’s life.”
Sicily shot Flora a quick glance. “But you don’t even know us,” she said.
“I know enough.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a checkbook and a pen. “Now, what’s your number?”
“I don’t have a number,” Flora whispered, trying to hide her shock.
“Everyone has a number. Frankly, I found your mother’s to be insultingly low. Especially since she included a child—as if I’d be swayed by a collection of fibrous tissue and blood.”
“There’s no baby,” Flora said.
“Good, although it wouldn’t have actually mattered. Zane would have denied it.” He laughed when he saw her expression. “Good heavens, you didn’t think he meant what he said when he offered to marry you, did you?”
Sicily stared at Dr. Wentworth with an open mouth. Flora swallowed hard and tried to process his words.
“But we were going to Vegas,” Flora began.
“And what exactly did you think was going to happen there? Let me tell you—there’d be a quickie ceremony followed by a night of lust, and the whole thing would have been swept under the rug and easily dissolved within a few days. And you,” he pointed at Flora, “would have been left in Vegas, where you would undoubtedly get a job in a casino.”
“That’s not true,” Sicily said. “Zane wouldn’t do that?” Even mixed with indignation, her words ended with a question mark.
“Wouldn’t he? How do you know he hasn’t done it before?” Dr. Wentworth clicked the pen, placed the checkbook on the table, and poised the pen above it. “I’m being generous here. I’m providing a way for the two of you to escape your mother and her machinations. I suggest you take it.” After scribbling in an amount and signing it, he tore off the check and pushed it across the desk. “If you choose to try and contact my son, I’ll see the two of you and your mother in prison.”
“But—” Flora began.
“You don’t think I can’t make it happen?”
“You’re evil,” Sicily said.
“Am I? Or am I protecting my family?” He tapped the check. “Take it and go away.”
“I don’t want your money.” Flora spat out, and she stood and flounced out of the room.
Sicily followed.
“I don’t believe a word he said,” Sicily said as they made their way down the driveway.
Flora felt numb as they passed the stone pillars and the lion statues. “I can’t tell who I hate more, Mom or Zane’s dad,” she whispered, wondering if Dr. Wentworth was still listening and watching.
She found her suitcase where she’d dropped it when Dr. Wentworth had first spoken to them. She picked it up, even though it held almost nothing. “What are we going to do, Sicily?”
Sicily smiled and headed for the sidewalk, but didn’t say anything. Flora trailed after her, feeling defeated. After a few minutes, she realized Sicily was heading for the train station.
“We don’t have any money,” Flora said.
“Maybe you don’t,” Sicily said, “but I do.”
“How? You don’t even have any real clothes.”
Sicily grinned. “Come on, I’ve got a surprise. I was going to give it to you and Zane as a wedding gift.” She let out a sad sigh. “Too bad he turned out to be a scumbag.”
“We don’t know that,” Flora said, still feeling sick. “I mean, why should we believe Dr. Wentworth?”
Sicily passed through the arches that led to the train station. Inside the cool and dim interior, people carrying suitcases stood in long lines while others hurried to the tracks. Sicily headed for a bank of lockers that lined a far wall. “I rented this locker two days ago.” She tugged the suitcase out of Flora’s hand, unzipped it, and reached inside. “I was going to tell you about it before you left so you could pick it up.”
“Pick what up?” Flora watched Sicily pull a tiny brass key out of the bag and insert it into the lock on the locker.
“Well, it was supposed to be your wedding present, but now I guess it’s our ticket out of here.” Sicily tugged a bag out of the locker, set it down on a nearby bench, and unzipped it, revealing a giant stash of bills wrapped in rubber bands.
SEVEN YEARS LATER
Flora danced with a parade of men. Most were peers of her elderly host, but a few were not much older than herself. For the most part, despite the fact that before the evening she had known no one at the reception other than her best friend Gillian, she was having a good time.
But then she heard a familiar voice, and it was as if someone had poured ice down her back.
Zane. She spotted him across the dance floor. In his arms, he held a woman dressed in a tight red dress that resembled a lumpy tube of lipstick. But he looked good. Taller, more powerful, different, older. Flora had aged as well, of course, mostly because of him.
She stumbled and her dance partner caught her.
“Flora?”
She focused on the man holding her. What was his name again? Something royal...Duke? Baron? Kingston. Matt Kingston. He had something to do with imports.
“Sorry. I tripped.” She tried to smile despite the sick feeling in her belly. She dropped her voice to an almost-whisper. “Do you mind if we take a break?”
Matt Kingston bent his large head toward her. “Do you need some water?”
Flora shot a glance over her shoulder. Zane hadn’t noticed her yet. It wasn’t too late to slip out. Hide.
Flora held up her hand like she was stopping traffic. “I’m not feeling well.” Which was true. “I’m going to go—” She motioned to the house. When she saw Matt’s round, stricken face and concerned eyes, she added, “I’m so sorry.” She turned away and, in her hurry, she bumped into a girl carrying a tray of stuffed mushrooms that went flying.
Everyone turned to stare, but Flora only saw one person’s face. Zane.
She had thought she’d never see him again. Sure, she’d followed his career, his brilliant research and the creation of the app that led to early detection of heart disease. But she’d hoped to never have to see his face again. Or hear his voice.
Why had the music stopped?
What was he doing here? Had Gillian known? She had to have seen the guest list.
Rage flashed through Flora and carried her into the house. She tried to run as best as she could in her high heels. The band resumed playing Elvis Presley’s “I Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
Flora dashed up the stairs and down the hall. In the safety of her room, she burned from the sting of betrayal all over again, but this time, she added Gillian to her list. Had Zane’s presence been intentional?
She sat on the bed, took off her shoes, threw them at the closet, and contemplated her next move.
Could she pretend to be cool and nonchalant? Act as if seeing him again didn’t tear her up inside, as if he hadn’t destroyed her life? She sucked in a shuddering breath.
No, she wasn’t that good an actress. The sensible thing to do was to wait out the party in her room and then quietly disappear.
Just like she had seven years ago.
Only this time, she didn’t have Sicily to bail her out.
SEVERAL MONTHS LATER
Florence, Italy
“Why are all these statues naked?” Posey asked.
“Yeah, it’s embarrassing,” Rose added.
Flora looked over the Boboli Gardens and the sweeping view of Florence beyond. She found the lush gardens with t
heir ancient statuary magical, but the twins were obviously more enamored by gelato.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting that this was all built for just one family?” Flora looked up from her guidebook. “They didn’t host parties here or invite people to see it and, of course, there wasn’t anyone to take pictures back in the sixteenth century.”
“That naked guy riding the turtle?” Rose giggled. “What’s his story?”
Flora consulted her book again. “His name is Morgante. He was a member of Cosimo I de Medici’s court and supposedly Cosimo’s favorite dwarf.”
“So weird.” Posey curled her lip. “If I had a garden, I wouldn’t want a statue of a fat naked dwarf riding a turtle. Even if he was my favorite.”
“You’d only want a naked guy,” Rose said.
“Would not.” Posey shoved her sister.
Rose pushed her back. Posey stumbled backwards, did an awkward dance on the loose gravel, then righted herself, let out a bellow and charged after her twin. Laughing, Rose took off. Posey scampered after her.
“Girls!” Flora watched as they disappeared into the trees. Now what? They both had phones on them so they would be unlikely to get lost, but still, she was supposed to be watching them and protecting them from any sort of Italian evils... Knowing that they’d return when they wanted gelato, she sat down on a stone bench overlooking the city of Florence to wait.
It wasn’t a bad job and it was good for her online clothing gig since a lot of people liked to buy European clothes. When Liz Meyers had approached her with a job offer of tutoring and nannying the tweens for the summer in Italy, she’d jumped at the chance. Rose and Posey had both been in the math class Flora taught at middle school. The only daughters of two professors, they were good students. Although they were better behaved when separated. But since they’d spent months sharing everything, from hotel rooms to taxis, they were grating on each other’s—as well as Flora’s—nerves.
Flora stretched out her legs and wiggled her tired toes. She thought she heard the girls calling out to each other, but then she heard another voice.
