My parents met in foster care. My grandma took them both in as her own, she could never have children. The only thing of their heritage that ever really stuck with them were a few terms of endearment that they taught my sisters and myself. I don’t know anything of their families.
I watch the men cautiously. I don’t like the vibe I get from either of them. They scream danger and not in the sexy fashion it oozes from Tristian.
The shorter man begins packing out small crates filled with bundles of what I assume to be pot.
The larger of the two comes over to shake Tristian’s hand and say goodbye with a brief manly hug. He spies me over Tristian’s shoulder and smiles.
“You didn’t introduce me to your friend. Such a rare beauty to hide away and keep all to yourself Tris, though I cannot blame you. This why you turned down my wife’s invitation to have dinner with us?
“My pet,” Tristian brags.
“How long you been hiding this one? We’ve been associates for two years now; I’ve never seen you with a woman on your arm.” He can probably read the confusion all over my face and see through Tristian’s lie.
“Isa has been mine since we were children, bought and paid for. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure. You know this Goldoni,” he covers smoothly.
His words bring a memory to surface. I am outside running in a circle as a boy in a wheelchair chases after me. I’m wearing a white dress. I try to see the boy’s face, but it’s fuzzy. I can only see his chair clearly. Why did Tristian’s words trigger a weird dreamlike memory I have no recollection of?
Goldoni and Tristian conversing more brings me out of the haze. “You must come to dinner now. I insist. We will celebrate you acquiring such an exquisite beauty.”
“I’ll call you; Isa is more trouble than she is worth, her father is ill and cutting into my use for her.”
“My apologies,” Goldoni states kissing my knuckles. His mouth feels as slimy as his hair appears. “We will speak soon Tris. Nice to meet you Isabella. I look forward to the privilege to gaze upon a woman so lovely in the future. And Tristian, if you find another like her, my offer still stands on the girls, we could make a lot of money. Or if you tire of her, I can be persuaded to take her off your hands.” He sounds friendly but there is a hint of a warning in his tone. Alarms sound in my head but I smile and tell him I look forward to seeing him again, trying to ignore his comment about his offer on the girls and me.
What girls?
Tristian smiles menacingly and I can feel his mood growing darker by the second.
“I’ll see you off. Isa has a call to make to her Papa.”
Tristian and his associates disappear. The chopper comes to life and the ground beneath me shakes.
When Tristian comes back for me I have to ask, “What girls? Do you traffic women Tristian?”
“No Isa I don’t fucking sell women into the sex slave trade. I have dancers who flash some ass for a little cash. Goldoni has been pressuring me, wanting to use my club
to expand his business. I don’t even know why I am explaining any of this to you.”
He closes the cases of money and hands one to me. “Help me carry this to the house.”
I take the heavy case and follow him back through the woods. When we get inside I remember what he said about my getting to make a call.
“Tristian?”
“Yes, Isa?”
“Can I call my Papi now?”
“I did say you had to make a call didn’t I?” I smile and his face lights up at my happiness. Tristian’s smile is like nothing else in this world. So rare and captivating.
Chapter 14
ISABELLA
Turning my charged cell phone over in my hand feels foreign after being without it for so long. After our worlds collided in the greenhouse, Tristian returned my cell to me, with the promise I would tell my father nothing of my new knowledge of his dealings. I don’t get what the big deal is, my father probably already knows. He has suspicions, I know. He warned me that Tristian is dangerous and not to become involved. But it’s not as though I could go back on my word, or deny Tristian anything. I couldn’t if I tried. I am putty in the man’s hands.
He is watching me intently waiting for me to place my call home to assure my family of my wellbeing and his fair treatment of me.
My fingers dial the number by heart. My sister Elsabeth answers on the second ring. “Why haven’t you called! Papa has been worried sick over you, he’s not eating. I had to have Felix hide his guns and take his car keys. He has been set on calling the police. You didn’t even give us a name for the family or an address... You have explaining to do,” she chastises.