Collateral

by Natasha Knight

  “Ouch!” I say as she tugs at the fabric at my lower back and I wonder how I’m going to get out of this with all the pins stuck in it.

  She mutters something under her breath and when she straightens, I turn to look at the back and how the material drapes so low, you can see the swell of my hips.

  The seamstress’ assistants, two younger women, help me out of the dress and I stand there in my underwear, my arms folded over my bare breasts as they unzip a huge garment bag and lift out the wedding dress.

  My mouth falls open when it takes the two of them to haul the thing out.

  “He expects me to wear that?” I ask.

  No one answers as they carry the gown with its layers of material toward me. They hold it up to me and it’s not ugly. In fact, I’m sure it’s very expensive and that a lot of brides would die to wear it.

  I’m just not one of them.

  But maybe that has something to do with the groom.

  They help me get into it, tightening the ties at the back of the corset-like top as I push down the skirts that make me think of a royal wedding, a dress for a princess.

  “I’m not sure I’ll fit through the door,” I say, knowing no one will reply as I stare at my reflection.

  But I stand there and do as I’m told and slip on the high heeled pumps I’m expected to somehow balance on underneath this monstrosity.

  Miss Millie comes inside to peek at the dress. She gets a strange smile on her face, her eyes tearing up.

  “You’re going to be a beautiful bride for him, Gabriela,” she says with the affection of a mother about her son.

  Does she realize this isn’t for real? That I’m being forced to do this against my will?

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I’m getting lunch ready for you now. Stefan will be here soon so you’ll want to pack a few overnight things.”

  “Overnight?” I ask.

  “Yes, didn’t he tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The engagement party is in Rome. You’ll fly out after lunch.”

  “Rome? Why Rome?”

  She looks confused. “Your father’s hosting, dear.”

  “My father?”

  The seamstress says something to her, drawing her attention, and they walk out together as the other two help me out of the dress. Once they leave, I put on a bra and one of the summer dresses because it is too hot for jeans. I go out into the hallway and down the stairs where the table’s been set for lunch for one. At least I don’t always have to eat with him.

  I go into the kitchen to find Miss Millie. “What do you mean my father’s hosting?” I ask.

  She smiles uncertainly. “I’m sure Stefan will tell you as soon as he’s here.” She checks her watch. “Have you packed?”’

  “Packed what exactly?”

  “An overnight bag. You don’t need to worry about anything for tonight but take a dress for tomorrow. I’m not sure if you’ll come straight back or spend the day in Rome. He does like Rome.”

  “When are we leaving?”

  “Stefan should be here within the hour. Now go on, have your lunch first, then pack. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  No, I know he doesn’t.

  I pull my iPod out of my pocket, go out to the patio and sit down at the table. I pop my earbuds in and switch on some music as I eat a sandwich and I’m about to put it down when a text message pops onto the screen.

  I open it, smiling when I find it’s Alex.

  “Gabi, I just got your messages and you have nothing to apologize for. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’m more worried about you. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  I tuck the iPod into my pocket and shove the last chunk of my sandwich into my mouth. “I’m going to pack, Miss Millie,” I tell her when I pass her on my way to the stairs. “I don’t want to keep Stefan waiting.”

  At that she smiles. “That’s a good idea. Did you eat enough?”

  “Yep.” I try not to charge up the stairs.

  As soon as I’m in my room, I sit on my bed, lean against the headboard and type my reply.

  “I’m okay. My punishment was watching what they did to you. Are you still at the hospital?” I ask.

  “Long story, but I’m in Rome at my aunt’s house. And I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Rome? What? Why?”

  “I guess your dad wanted to be sure I wasn’t a threat. I’m sorry, Gabi.”

  “He sent you to Rome?”

  “Yeah. And if he finds out we’re talking…”

  “He won’t. I won’t let him hurt you again, I promise.”

  “I have to go. I just wanted to tell you I’m okay before I disappear.”

  “You’re not disappearing. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Things have changed, Alex. But I’ll be in Rome too. Tonight.”

  I hear footsteps as I begin to type the rest of my message and when the door opens, I quickly drop the iPod, bolting upright. I’m sure I look guilty as hell when I meet Stefan’s eyes.

  I try to relax, clear my throat, pull the earbuds out of my ears. “Ever hear of knocking?”

  He eyes me curiously.

  I get up, wrap the earbuds around the iPod and shove it into my duffel, my heart thudding against my chest.

  “It’s my house. I don’t need to knock.” He looks me over. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nod, zip up the duffel. “Yeah.”

  He seems surprised by this but nods, and gestures for me to walk out into the hallway. When I get to the door, though, he extends his arm to block my way.

  “What?” I ask, my mind working a million miles a minute, not sure what I plan to do, but if I’ll be in Rome and Alex is there, I need to see him.

  Stefan’s eyes narrow and I have to steel my spine to hold his gaze. I tell myself to remember it’s not like he can read my mind.

  He closes his hand on the strap of my duffel.

  I pull back, but I know I need to relax.

  “I’ll carry it,” he says.

  It takes me a full minute to relinquish the bag to him.

  “Any weapons I should know about?” he asks.

  I remember the knife under my pillow. Can he read my mind?

  “More guns?” he adds.

  I exhale. I guess this is Stefan joking.

  I’m not in a joking mood, though. Nor will I ever be with him. “You confiscated my weapon, remember?”

  He studies me silently, his gaze too knowing, like he’s some sort of lie detector and for some reason, it’s hard to hide from him.

  I step away, break eye contact with a shake of my head. “I forgot my toothbrush.” Without waiting for him to reply, I head to the bathroom, taking a moment there to breathe and calm down.

  He’s just carrying my bag. He doesn’t know anything.

  There isn’t anything to know.

  I pick up my toothbrush and walk back out to find him still standing in the same spot.

  “Ready,” I say.

  He nods and gestures for me to go ahead. I head down the stairs, feeling him behind me with every step.

  The front doors are open and Rafa is standing there. He smiles at me and I smile back.

  “Catch your breath?” he asks.

  “Catch yours?” I retort, slipping past him and to the waiting SUV.

  A soldier opens the back door and I step in, turning back to find Stefan’s glance shift from me to Rafa. I get the feeling he didn’t know about our run this morning. Get the feeling he doesn’t like the idea.

  Good.

  The cousins exchange words I don’t hear before Stefan loads my duffel into the back and climbs into the front seat.

  11

  Stefan

  “Flight’s just over an hour,” I tell Gabriela when the plane takes off.

  She’s strapped into a seat at the window and her nails are digging into the leather of the armrests.

  “I don’t like flying,” she says. “Is this thing even safe?”
>
  I take the flight attendant’s offered tumbler of whiskey.

  “It’s perfectly safe. Here.” I hold my glass out to her. She didn’t want anything.

  We’re on my private jet. I hate flying commercial and only do it when I absolutely have to.

  She turns to me, looks at the drink and shakes her head.

  “It’ll help you relax.”

  “Can’t we drive?”

  “It’s too far. Drink.”

  She takes the tumbler, sips it, makes a face. “That’s nasty.”

  I smile. “You’re young.” I see how her eyes go wide when she looks out the window again and I reach over to pull the blind down. “Relax. If it wasn’t safe, you wouldn’t be here. You went running with Rafa?”

  “Is someone going to report everything I do back to you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Yes, I went running. Only because your cousin was nice enough to take me.”

  “Rafa? Nice?”

  She nods.

  “Oh, Gabriela,” I can’t help my chuckle. “There’s nothing nice about Rafa.”

  “I don’t know, he seems nicer than you.”

  I don’t reply. I find silence puts people on edge. Forces them to talk. Gabriela is no exception.

  “Actually seems to have a sense of humor,” she continues.

  “Does he?”

  “Your mom and his mom were sisters?”

  Just how much did my cousin tell her, I wonder.

  I nod. “It’s too hot to run unless you get up very early before sunrise or go after sunset.”

  “I was fine.”

  “If you wanted exercise, why didn’t you swim instead?”

  “I don’t swim.”

  “Don’t or can’t?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Why is the engagement party in Rome? And since when is my father hosting it?”

  I know about her mother’s drowning and I have questions, but now isn’t the time.

  “Maybe he wants to show off the groom,” I deadpan, taking a sip of my drink.

  “He hates you.”

  “Hate is a harsh word.”

  “It’s an accurate one.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “It’ll be nice to be back to where we first met, won’t it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your bedroom.”

  She’s confused and it takes her a minute. “The party’s at my father’s house?”

  I nod.

  “How did you get him to do that?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “How many people are coming?”

  “A few hundred.” I want to change the subject. “What did you think of the wedding dress?”

  “It’s hideous.”

  “It’s one of a kind. Made especially for you, Princess.”

  “I’m not a princess.”

  “You are a brat, though. Grow up, Gabriela.”

  She seems momentarily upset by that, offended almost. But she recovers quickly. “You wasted your money on it. I won’t wear it.”

  “You’ll wear what I tell you to wear.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We will.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “Your brother died one day before my sixteenth birthday,” she says.

  My hand fists around my almost empty glass. “He did,” I say, signaling for another whiskey.

  She studies me and I know she timed this. She’s a clever girl. I’m sure she’ll be putting two and two together soon if she hasn’t already.

  “Did my cousin give you a tour of the cemetery?”

  One corner of her mouth curves upward. “You didn’t like me knowing. Why?”

  “That’s a family plot. You have no business there.”

  “But I’m marrying into the family, Stefan. You’re making it my business.”

  “Be careful, Gabriela.”

  “You be careful, Stefan.”

  “Or what?” I ask, my voice a whisper. When I lean toward her, she plasters herself against the back of the seat.

  She licks her lips, swallows.

  I watch her throat work, watch the pulse drumming away along the curve of her neck. Tilting my head down, I close my lips over that rapidly beating pulse.

  She gasps.

  When I draw back, I see the shock on her face. But I also see how her nipples have hardened and are poking against the fabric of her dress.

  “Do you like my mouth on you, Gabriela?”

  Her cheeks grow red and her eyes are huge as she searches mine.

  Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I brush the backs of my fingers over one taut nipple.

  She captures my hand.

  “Your body is very responsive.”

  She shoves my hand rudely away. “Don’t touch me again.”

  “But I think you liked it.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Liar.” My gaze drops to her chest before I sit back in my seat and take the fresh tumbler of whiskey the attendant brings over.

  “You’re a jerk, Stefan.”

  “Relax, Gabriela. I’m just fucking with you.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “Then don’t make it so easy.”

  I drink, watching her, giving her space to breathe.

  “Is that why…” she starts, sounding less certain.

  I raise my eyebrows. Wait.

  “How did he die?” she asks, and I guess I admire her courage. She’s afraid of me, but she hasn’t cowered. Yet.

  This line of questioning, though, it takes anything casual out of our conversation.

  “He was murdered. Shot. His head and hands removed.”

  Her mouth falls open and the color drains from her face.

  “Someone wanted to be sure I didn’t find out.”

  “That’s…how…I mean, how could you identify him?”

  “A tattoo.”

  “Tattoo?”

  I put my drink down, unbutton the top buttons of my shirt and open it.

  “What are you…” she trails off and her eyes drop to my chest and again, she licks her lips. I doubt she’s aware of that. Of how her face flushes. How her eyes grow just a little wider.

  A thought occurs to me then and I wonder how experienced she is. I just assumed she was because she’s rebellious. But I wonder if I’m wrong.

  Now isn’t the time for that, though.

  I just give her a glimpse of the tattoo before closing my shirt again.

  “There was a mistake on his. Only he and I knew about it. A kid who worked at the morgue recognized the tattoo. We all have it, Rafa too. Didn’t he show you his?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

  “Of course not!”

  “Hmm. I thought he might. Anyway, all the men of the family get it when we turn sixteen.”

  “What is it?”

  “Family crest.”

  “And you think my father had something to do with Antonio’s death?”

  “I don’t think. I know. And you remember his name. Good girl.”

  “Is that why you’re doing this?”

  I just watch her.

  “My father wouldn’t brutalize someone like that,” she says but even as she does, her words falter.

  “No?”

  She swallows, lowers her lashes. She picks up the drink I’d set down and takes a swallow of it.

  “Did you keep the necklace I gave you?”

  She nods.

  “It was in my brother’s pocket. That’s what led me to your father.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. It could—”

  “There’s more, Gabriela. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

  “I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t do something like that.”

  The pilot comes over the intercom to tell us we’re landing.

  I reach over to push the blinds up and when she glances out the window, I see her stiffen.

  “He would and he did,” I say, leaning nearer to her to watch as the city comes into v
iew before turning to face her.

  She leans as far back as possible and I like this. Like how she trembles when I’m so close.

  “You let me know when you’re ready to hear the whole truth, Gabriela.”

  12

  Gabriela

  A car and driver, along with four more soldiers, are waiting for us at the airport and an hour later, we’re pulling into the guarded gates of a gothic style mansion.

  “This is my uncle’s house,” Stefan says.

  It’s huge and beautiful in a very different way than Stefan’s Palermo house.

  “How long are we staying?” I ask as we pull up to the front entrance. I notice the scaffolding along the whole of one side of the house.

  “Just overnight.”

  “What’s going on there?” Part of the house seems to be under major construction.

  “There was a storm a few weeks ago that blew over a tree. Damage was extensive.”

  Stefan steps out of the car and extends his hand to help me out.

  I ignore it and climb out on my own. I stand taking a deep breath. It’s a little less warm here than Sicily, but it’s still hot. I love Rome. I always have. And I’m excited about the party being at our house later. I’m hoping to sneak away to my old bedroom just for a few minutes at least. It always felt more like home to me than the New York house.

  We enter Stefan’s uncle’s house which is loud with construction work, and an older man whom Stefan resembles comes to greet us.

  “Stefan,” he says with a wide smile. The two embrace.

  “Uncle Jack. It’s good to see you.”

  Uncle Jack stands back to look Stefan over. Stefan does the same.

  “You look good,” Stefan tells him.

  Uncle Jack pats his round belly. “Enjoying life,” he says, then turns to me, openly looking me over.

  “This is Gabriela,” Stefan says. “Marchese’s daughter.”

  I guess they all know my father.

  Whatever Uncle Jack thinks of that, he hides it well because his expression doesn’t change. He extends a hand.

  “Welcome to my home, Gabriela.” He touches my ring and lifts my hand to examine it. “And congratulations to you both on the engagement.”

  Stefan comes to stand beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Thank you, Uncle. Gabriela’s excited about tonight’s party, aren’t you?”