by Rimmy London
As soon as the door padded closed a man with high manners and a brown briefcase extended his hand. “Ms. Lane?” He greeted. I shook his hand, encouraging my head to nod. “Sorry about that. The last-minute changes to this case have caused quite a stir, what with them being completely illegal and all.”
Givanni paced a circle in our small room before stopping in front of the lawyer again. “Can she testify James?” He asked. “She was there. She knew that I was unarmed—they can’t expedite me if they have no case.”
The lawyer’s deep-set eyes were troubled, and Givanni stopped. “Why haven’t you told me this before?” He questioned, looking less like an ally by the second. But in the silence that followed, he sighed. His tightly pinched brows relaxed. “It couldn’t possibly hurt,” He conceded. “But since their testimonies are all completely false, there should be no trouble getting an actual witness on the stand.”
Givanni’s face captured my attention every few seconds, and I studied his smooth features again. Stress was beginning to turn the perfect curve of his mouth, and I doubted I looked any more relaxed. His eyes, which had been jumping to every corner of the room, finally rested on me and my racing heart ignited. I could feel the tears trail down my face before realizing they were there.
“Don’t cry,” James grated. “That won’t help at all.”
“I know…” I breathed, “I won’t.” But the tears fell regardless, and Givanni looked back at me with the same tortured face I knew I wore. He linked his arms around me, a deep gust of breath bringing us closer together. “It’s so unfair,” I whispered.
He clamped his arms tighter. “Loriel, this will work. They will believe you.” His hand smoothed my hair, and we finally separated. Glancing back at the uncomfortable looking lawyer I could feel my cheeks turning pink, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing worse than the feeling of having absolutely nothing in our control. Givanni’s promise was empty—I knew that. And so did he.
* * *
We entered the courtroom together.
For a closed hearing, it was a crowded room, at least on one side. Gazing across all the witnesses they had fabricated, my heart sunk. There were easily a dozen men and women. On our side was Givanni, his lawyer... and me.
We stopped behind the defendants’ table and I settled into a grey bench and scanned the room, trying to keep my face blank. I was almost the only chance Givanni had.
A disturbance outside had lawyers and witnesses alike swiveling in their seats, and I jumped when the door swung open with a bang. Striding through the entrance, Marco jerked on his coat to straighten out the crumpled fabric. Without a glance at anyone in particular, he settled next to me. His eyes met mine for a fraction of time and he patted my knee. I assumed he was trying to be supportive but it seemed a little late for that—I slid to the side a bit.
Givanni’s posture hadn’t changed since he sat down, or his lawyers. They sat erect and waiting. I forced a flow of breath through my lungs, their tension making me freeze up. In the next few minutes the jury filed in, the judge was seated, and a policeman in a perfectly pressed uniform began speaking. I could hardly focus on it—on anything. All I could do was look at the jury and hope they would believe me. The case against Givanni was quick and unforgiving. As I listened I tried not to think it, but the idea came anyway. He should have listened to Max. Getting as far away as possible would be the only way to escape. But it was too late.
My name was announced, and I stood mechanically, feeling dizzy as I walked through the half gate and took the steps to a small seat and microphone.
Did I know Givanni? Yes.
Did I work with him? Yes.
For how long? Six months.
Could I describe the events as they happened on the day in question? I began at the boat. I had stayed behind as Givanni made his way to the strange stone fort that held Enrica captive.
But could my testimony be believed? I blinked, glancing at a new voice that had interrupted Givanni’s lawyer.
“Can we believe you, Miss Lane?” I glanced from this new man to the judge, but he seemed to have stepped out of his authoritative role, becoming only a spectator. “After all, it was you who left Givanni a few days after he was accused to visit an old flame—two old flames to be exact.”
Incredulous I gripped the podium, standing slowly. “Excuse me?” I breathed.
“Isn’t that right Mr. Hardin?” The man asked.
“Yes, that’s right.” Someone answered. I turned around and saw Cal stand amidst the crowd. But he definitely had shed the cowboy look, his sleeked hair and sharp black suit identifying him easily—he was one of them.
“That’s not true,” I wheezed, looking in shock at the 8 X 10 photographs held up. First, me and Cal leaving in his truck, and then him with his hand in my back pocket. Next was me and Luke on his horse. And at the final picture, I felt the color leave my face. On the porch. It had been so innocent, his small kiss. But from the angle of the picture that wasn’t what it looked like. I had to admit it looked very intimate. My eyes dropped to Givanni, and his expression crushed me.
This was no longer about a trial.
“That’s not what happened!” I practically shouted, looking from Givanni to the jury. “Can’t you see what they’re doing? That this is an unfair trial? Just look at this room!” The faces I looked into pitied me, but I didn’t see understanding. “I am the one witness that can change the fate of this trial and they know that! Mr. Alarrno is innocent! Completely innocent!” My emotions had cut in, cracking the last few words to pieces.
“Ma’am, I am going to ask you to be seated.” The judge jumped back into his role, the man with the crisp uniform ushering me to my seat. As I passed Givanni I stared into his face, but his eyes didn’t lift from the table in front of him. Marco reached for my hand and I held his tightly, knowing that if I looked up I would lose it. As they read the verdict the room around us stayed falsely quiet, a pretended sense of relief and adulation sounding as they heard the word guilty. It was all a show—a terrible, manipulative show. Givanni stood, shaking his attorney’s hand with a nod and turning to the officers walking toward him.
I jumped from my seat and gripped the rail in front of me. “Givanni,” I pleaded. “Look at me.” He turned, but his face was devoid of emotion. Lifting to my toes I gripped his shoulders. “They lied Givanni, that wasn’t what happened—at all!”
His face studied mine for a moment before he was pulled away, but I’d seen his expression clear enough.
Chapter 8
Marco hadn’t reacted like I thought. His usually sure expression was replaced by utter disbelief. Not sure what he’d expected I shook my head, wishing I could scream at him. I would yell until he realized just what his actions had caused. That this was all a direct result of his poor choices, and that I hated him for it. But there wasn’t enough energy left in me. It had all left with the tall dark sunlight they had pulled from the room. The warmth was gone too, and replacing them both was the grey, cold realization that I was alone—for a long time. But what stung worse was what I had seen in Givanni’s eyes, and what he now thought of me. I could only imagine what things were like on his end.
My head lifted suddenly and I found Cal in the next second. Every rational thought was catapulted from my mind and I jumped to my feet, starting for him. But before I took two steps, Marco wrapped his arm around my shoulders and dragged me away, and though I fought and struggled he held me firmly. I lifted up to my toes and was able to see over his arm just long enough to catch a glimpse of Cal’s mildly interested face turned in my direction. Fire burst inside me. “Liar!” I screamed, completely out of control. My head swung around as we crowded into the lobby, excited reporters taking picture after picture. I shaded my face.
“Is this her?”
“Loriel!”
“What are you feeling?”
“Loriel, were you in love?”
“Did you have any idea?”
My father trudged ahead
of us and pushed his way through the crowd, opening up a pathway and shoving surprised suits and cameras out of the way. In a daze, I stumbled into the open cab door while my father entered from the other side.
Marco closed the door after me and squared his shoulders to face the horde of energy behind us. It was a mob with the way they rushed him, taking pictures of the cab even as we drove away. My throat pushed in on itself, making each breath a struggle. The scene outside I felt completely disconnected to, and I watched as the excitement was lost from view.
From inside the cab, the world muted, and I fought to find a glimmer of hope amidst the gloom that had successfully strangled my heart. Rain dripped down the windows, warping the buildings we passed.
A heavy sigh from my father at least distracted my mind for a moment. I faced him and studied the compassionate face that had comforted me hundreds of times—and I was glad for the company. My mind was all too willing to fall into despair on its own. Another person meant I had to at least act rationally.
“I’m sorry Ella,” My father offered, taking my hand. “I didn’t believe you before, but that was the most obviously rigged trial I’ve ever seen.” He left it at that, knowing me well enough to avoid any lengthy conversation.
When our cab bumped to a stop against a curb, my eyes lifted to the canopy of trees and rain-darkened walkways. The moisture made colors deep and pure and washed everything away—all the dirt, dust, and marks from the world. It should have been a hopeful scene, but all I felt was cold. It hadn’t registered at first that we were nowhere near our hotel. I stared absently at a group of brightly mismatched raincoats and umbrellas huddled under the largest tree in the park.
My father appeared outside my window and opened the cab door with a cautious look on his face. Confused, I stepped onto the sidewalk as our cab pulled away, wondering in silence. But my father only stared at the group beyond. After a moment their hoods turned toward me, and the small turquoise one rushed forward with arms stretched wide.
“Loriel!” She yelled, colliding with me in the next instant and locking her slender arms around me.
Shocked, my eyes moved from face to face, with their smiles lifting simultaneously. “Zoe?” My arms finally settled around her, the painful ache in my chest spreading. Any other conversation seemed impossible, and as I tried to choke back the emotions Zoe kissed my cheeks, stepping away. But her small frame had seemed the only thing keeping me up. I stumbled into the next hug, and Adriano caught me quickly. His strength was unmoving and I locked my arms around it, sobbing softly into his neck.
If he felt embarrassed it didn’t show—his manner was steady and calm. “Ladielle, all is not lost. We are here.” he soothed with his endearingly heavy accent. His hand pressed my hair, which had become a quickly frizzing mess in all the misty rain. Hands smoothed my back from every side, along with reassurances.
“H’lo,” My father reached out a strong hand to every member of the party, possibly in an attempt to avoid an array of kisses. He nodded at each name, dipping his hat in time. There wasn’t any conversation after that, just compassionate faces and, if I admitted it, confusion. From face to face, I saw it—the awkward discomfort that my emotions were causing. But what did they think? Of anyone on the planet, they more than anyone should understand my pain. They believed the lie that I was nearly their daughter in law. Our fake engagement in Italy we’d never had the chance to explain. But from their unhindered smiles and awkward glances, they clearly thought I was overreacting.
I exhaled, and a small cloud of breath swept in front of my vision. It was too much—I turned my back to them and looked out on the empty park. A heavy mist had settled in swells, giving the impression of being at the city’s edge with nothing but wilderness ahead. I wished it were true, and that I could get lost among the low branches and dripping foliage.
“We have a hotel close by if you would join us?” Dario offered. “Maybe we can help with Givanni.”
My head lifted, but the question was clearly directed at my father. He mumbled a thank-you, and I abandoned my daydreams to fall in step beside them.
* * *
When we entered their suite, it easily took up half the hotel floor. A great room sprawled out in the center—all marble finishes and gold-brushed frames, and bedrooms split off in every direction.
I followed the crowd as they settled into each of the three couches. Conversations had started up, but I kept out of the chatter and sat alone, trying to recall Italy and everything that had happened there. I would have to remember all the lies we had sold them. My glazed eyes scanned the room before stopping at the one person who hadn’t spoken yet.
Emilio gazed back at me, his usually boisterous face subdued. I couldn’t look away, seeing the pain I felt clearly in his eyes. His eyes held mine as minutes passed, the task of studying his face giving my mind a welcome distraction. There was no telling what he would make of it, especially when he’d already confessed having a crush on me, and with the way things had ended in Italy. He no doubt thought my ‘relationship’ with Givanni was over, when really it hadn’t even started until a week ago.
“Now let’s see what we can do here,” Dario said, and my eyes jumped up to see him perched on the arm of a couch and looking at each of us thoughtfully. “Has Givanni been given any liberties?” He left the question in the air, waiting for me to pick it up.
“Liberties?” I questioned, feeling utterly baffled.
“Yes,” Dario encouraged. “You know, the way that CEO’s get treated here in the United States when they uncover a bit of corruption. He is entirely too valuable to the company to be suspended for long. It is never a severe thing. What is being done?” I glanced around the room at the bright looking faces—clearly, they all saw some optimism in this.
My father’s face was less cheerful, instead looking perplexed. He shifted in his seat. “Yes,” He began. “But just because he is useful to you—or to a company… that doesn’t clear him of murder.”
The last word he spoke seemed to hit everyone particularly strong, with Oriana rising to her feet. “Murder?” She whispered, her eyes tearing up instantly. I swallowed, feeling my vision blur.
My father looked more uncomfortable by the second, but clearly, her inquiry was directed at him so he nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. He’s scheduled for a hearing in Sicily—he’s being expedited now.” At that she fell back to her seat, her head dropping into her hands to cover a sob.
Wiping my cheeks, I looked around at the equally devastated faces. “You didn’t know what he was accused of?” I asked.
Adriano was the only one who responded, shaking his head minutely. “We all just assumed it was for some fraudulent corporate claim against him—or else why would he keep it from us?” With his last words, a few faces turned, looking at me questioningly.
“I…” swallowing I tried to decide what Givanni would want them to hear. “I’m sure he was only trying to protect you—he’s always trying to protect everyone.” Zoe looked up from Gaio’s arms to nod at me sweetly. “Givanni is completely innocent,” I said. “He was framed.”
“We can’t prove that Loriel,” My father noted, trying to keep his voice down in respect of those around us. “And although the trial was rigged, we still don’t know the details of that day.”
“I was there Dad,” I answered, watching my father’s face cloud. “I was with him in Italy, and if anyone is guilty of murder it’s me, not Givanni. He – is – innocent.” My frustration at the willing way he accepted Givanni’s sentence burned with each word.
The steel in his eyes showed he was finally convinced. But while I could see he was convinced I could also see other things—like awareness. For once, he seemed to realize that I was in this just as deep as Givanni. And picking at my conscience was the realization that his family had just heard a lot more than I wanted. I spun around. “This is nothing more than an attempt to hurt the company. That’s it. Givanni was the easiest target for them.” Lying came so easily now I hardl
y thought about it.
Oriana’s shaky voice interrupted me. “Who do you mean by them?”
Looking back at her face I made sure to keep my eyes glued to hers, shaking my head and letting my breath out. “I don’t know.” The room around me stayed still, and I glanced back at my father. He knew I was lying. The wide brim of his hat, at some point in the conversation, had slid down enough to give plenty of shadow to his face. But the turn of his mouth I knew well, and I doubted he would stay in the city another night. Oriana sniffed, allowing Dario to help her to her feet.
“Goodnight dear children.” She said softly, abandoning the night and looking devastated with every movement. Emilio was next, pulling a bag from the pile of luggage and stomping off to the nearest bedroom. Watching Gaio and Zoe walk away I lifted my mouth when she looked back, wishing I could give her more comfort. Turning around I saw only an empty window. My father was gone—in his mind I was out of danger, and he would give me time to myself to think. The dark night outside was glittering with lights, looking more still and peaceful than the room around me.
A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned. “Oh,” I mumbled, surprised to see Adriano staring back at me.
His hand stayed comfortably on my shoulder, and his dark eyes traced the floor before looking up. “I did not understand your emotions before Ladielle—I am sorry for that.” His eyebrows pinched together and he cleared his throat. “I…” His soft voice carried with it the sweetest concern. “I understand it now.” He wrapped his arms around me briefly, and nodded as a goodbye.
I watched him walk away, feeling as alone as ever. Here I’d hoped they would miraculously produce a solution—that maybe they’d known all along. But that was definitely not the case. It would be a very sleepless night for many of them, especially Oriana.
