He paused on the steps, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you need such things today? If so, I can acquire them for you.”
He was dead serious but not embarrassed or hesitant. Every male peer I knew tended to freak out anytime I mentioned anything feminine hygiene related. So Luca’s maturity came across as refreshing. And unique.
If I had to guess, I’d imagine him to be somewhere near thirty. He might even be in his mid-thirties. Maybe it was his no nonsense attitude, or the nature of his day to day life, but Luca Varasso struck me as much more of a grown man than other guys in my age group. Steady. Calm. Almost frighteningly so. And cold. Verging on icy, even.
“I’m fine for now.”
He nodded at me but didn’t smile. I’d never seen him smile. His father had cackled in an almost disturbing way, and his brother Alessandro had smirked in my presence, but Luca? Not so much as a partial grin. Not that I expected him to be a barrel of laughs or anything. I just wondered why he was so much more melancholy than the rest of his family.
He’d come to within arm’s reach when a question occurred to me.
“Are there other women here? Is that how you’d acquire whatever I need?” Something flashed across Luca’s face. Pain. It’d been so pronounced. I knew little about this man, but the fact that he’d suffered something terrible became immediately clear to me. I couldn’t help but soften my tone. “Luca?”
He turned his back to me, and I heard him cough as if to clear his throat. “We employ a small staff who provide us with whatever supplies we require.” His voice sounded gravelly and raw. I felt this impulse to touch his broad back, to soothe him.
I wasn’t used to watching men have to fight off their emotions like this. Other than Old Man Bertolli, I’d never known a man to have such deep feelings to express in the first place. Yet this man had these feelings. No matter what else he might be or what he may have done, Luca Varasso was full of anguish, and observing that anguish melted something inside of me.
Not that I wanted him to ever know that.
After a long moment, he turned back around to face me, his features back to the shuttered mask he typically wore.
“I brought you something.” He handed me a nondescript cell phone. “It’s only good for one three-minute usage, so measure your conversation carefully. I can’t allow you to tell your sister where you are or what you’re doing. This is an act of faith and trust, Molly Greene. Break that faith or trust and there will be consequences. Exceedingly negative ones. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I said, my hand shaking as I took the phone. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for, my only chance to call for help. I dialed Tara’s number. I’d never believed in God or any higher power, really. But right then, I tried my hand at praying. I prayed that she’d pick up. It rang four times, and my stomach sank to my knees. It was going to go to voicemail.
The number would show up as one she didn’t recognize, so it shouldn’t surprise me. Now, I had to decide what to say. Did I just yell out to call the cops? As a teenager, I’d had to shoplift in order to sell stuff to make some money. I’d done it for about six months before I was caught. I’d tried to tell the police that I was homeless and desperate. That I needed help.
But they couldn’t seem to care less.
They kept repeating that I’d broken the law. That I had to pay the price for that. That I was attempting to keep my sister fed didn’t matter. The only thing they’d cared about was their precious laws. It’d been black and white for them. Cut and dried. But life wasn’t any of those things. Life was gray. Messy. Complicated. Difficult.
So I’d picked up trash for free as a part of my community service punishment. It had been that incident that led me to have sex for money. It’d been the worst fifteen minutes of my life. I hadn’t been a virgin, but at that point I’d only ever been with one guy. The experience hadn’t been great, but it hadn’t hurt.
The sex for money had. He hadn’t beaten me, but he’d been rough. Way too rough. He’d left me bleeding with bruises and hickeys all over my body. I hadn’t had sex again for three years after that. I was too scared to.
While I could ask my sister to contact the police, would law enforcement even do anything? Could they? Wouldn’t the Varassos just mow them all down if they tried? I was beginning to doubt that Luca would kill me if I defied him, but I couldn’t say the same about any of his brothers or his father. Angelo had nearly shot me at pointblank range.
Had it not been for Luca intervening, I’d be dead.
It suddenly occurred to me that contacting Tara meant I’d be casting a spotlight on her. The Varassos already knew who she was and probably where she was, and
if I betrayed them, they might not stop at shooting me. They might go after her, too. There’d be nothing I could do to prevent it, either.
“Hey, this is Tara. You know what to do.”
“Tara, it’s me. Can you pick up?” I waited, not knowing what to say. I could almost feel the clock counting down like Dorothy watching the hourglass in the Wizard of Oz. “Please pick up.” Still nothing. Seconds ticked away, disappearing forever. I began to pace again. Luca stood against the wall and though I’d been avoiding looking in his direction, I glanced at him now.
He’d turned his face into that cautious mask again, but his body language didn’t match that stony visage of his. He seemed tense. It was almost as if he felt… nervous.
He wanted me to do as he’d asked. He wanted to trust me. I saw myself reflected in his eyes, and any confusion I may have felt vanished as everything clicked into place.
I made my decision.
8
Luca
I waited, feeling far more anxious than I liked. Her next words would seal her fate, one way or the other. I was playing Russian Roulette with her, and now that the moment of truth had come, I felt like a fool. If she made the wrong choice she’d be killed, and I couldn’t stand the notion of that. I barely knew this woman yet somehow, she’d become important to me.