Borrowed Bride: Chapter 11

“Here, let me—” I rise from my chair and take the small, porcelain milk jug from Emilia’s trembling hand.

“Sorry,” Emilia murmurs, curling her hands into her blanket-covered lap.

I wave off her apologies and add a drop of milk to her tea, then retake my seat. “It’s fine, it’s just milk.”

“One day it’s just milk, the next it’s my medication, or my cane in the bathroom, or a fragile glass,” Emilia says softly.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Emilia shakes her head. “No one can know what it’s like to live like this, and I don’t expect you to understand so quickly. I’m just …” She briefly closes her eyes. “I’m worried about Marco.”

“And Leo?” I ask, wrapping my hands around my own cup for warmth, but not intending to drink. I can’t because my own stomach is in knots from this revelation with Leo and the woman I saw at the party. Suddenly, this safe bubble no longer feels safe.

“Yes.” Emilia repeatedly smoothes out her flat blanket. “Leo’s accusations suggest we have a leak. A mole. Marco was here the other day, interrogating the team I have helping me and now everyone is on edge. And I am as well because I can’t help but wonder if one of them lied and is a danger to me or if there is something else going on.”

“Marco strikes me as the kind of man that gets answers,” I assure her softly, also trying to calm myself. “I don’t think anything would get past him.”

“Perhaps.” Emilia smiles but the warmth doesn’t reach her twinkling eyes like usual. She closes them again and remains silent for a long time before she speaks. “He is such an angel. He has given up so much for me, done so much to keep me safe and I’m scared that in doing so, he’s losing himself and forgetting to live. I am grateful, I am. But I worry.”

“And you think this thing with Leo will just make Marco redouble his efforts to keep you safe?”

“Exactly,” Emilia says and her voice cracks. “And goodness.” She reaches one hand across and places it atop my own, and I’m shocked by how cold to the touch she is. “Now you are caught up in this mess.”

“Don’t you worry.” Squashing down the acidic warmth that sits at the base of my throat, I give Emilia my strongest smile. “I can help. I’m actually pretty great at running and hiding, so if we have to do that to keep you safe, then we will. And Marco is living. He just wants to keep you safe. One doesn’t prevent the other.”

I’m not entirely sure if my words soothe Emilia, but her spirits do seem lifted for the rest of our afternoon tea. She tells me about some new saplings she’s been cultivating and explains at length how this time of year is crucial in making sure some of her plants survive the winter. She speaks with such passion that I’m almost jealous.

I have no love for a hobby like this. My life has always been fight-or-flight, with no time to stop and enjoy something just because I can. Maybe I would garden if I ever had the opportunity.

Tea lasts until Emilia grows exhausted and I excuse myself as her team takes over to care for her. I head back to my room and immediately dive into my laptop. I can’t do anything to help with the Leonardo situation, but my own situation is something I can take charge of.

Having a fake Mafia husband comes with a lot of perks, including a laptop that’s already connected to a server that makes getting information easy. I’ve been focusing on trying to get all the information on the woman I saw at the party.

If she is coming for me, I need to be prepared.

I’m not sure how long I spend bent over the laptop, but when someone knocks at my door and I sit up, the back of my neck is stiff. “Come in!”

Tara pokes her head around the door. “Hey, you didn’t come down for dinner so I brought you something. Are you okay?”

“Tara!” A friendly face is exactly what I need to lift my spirits. I pat an empty space on the bed beside me and slide the laptop onto my knees. “Come in.”

She enters and places a tray of soup and bread onto my bedside cabinet, then she settles next to me. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m okay, I just want some company.”

“If you wanted company, you would have come to dinner,” Tara points out. “You’ve been off ever since the party. Did something happen? If someone hurt you, you have to tell Marco!”

“No, no it’s nothing like that!” I clutch at her arm and my heart lurches at her concern. “It’s nothing, really.”

Tara squints at me then glances down at the laptop screen. “Why are you looking at prison records?”

I slap the laptop closed, but the cat is out of the bag and I groan softly. “Do you promise not to judge me?”

Tara smiles and rolls her eyes. “Look where we are. None of us are in a position to judge.”

Taking a deep breath, I reopen the laptop and a tremor runs through my shoulders. I’ve never told anyone this, but Tara is the only friend I have here, and in the event that I do end up dead before Marco can find out, then at least someone can give him clarity.

“I …” Emotion suddenly clogs my throat and heat prickles behind my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” Tara’s face crumples with concern. “Gianna, what’s wrong? Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad?”

The tears flood my eyes and vulnerability makes my chest ache. “I don’t know,” I sniffle. “It might be.” Closing my eyes, I will back the tidal wave of repressed emotion and begin.

“When I was younger, about sixteen, seventeen, I was running with this gang. I didn’t know it at first, y’know? I thought we were all friends, and I would see stuff but I was on the streets so I didn’t care. I thought I had friends, and they were a reason to get up in the morning, so I was fine with it. They taught me a lot of things, and we would pick pockets and scam men in bars for money or like, a night at a hotel room.”

Tara nods along as I speak, and she pulls some tissues from the pocket of her uniform then presses them into my hand.

“I didn’t know a lot about them but it was fine. They didn’t know me either. There were two women I ran with the most. They called themselves Mango and Cherry. Nicknames, I suppose. Anyway, one night I chose someone at a bar, but he freaked when he figured out I was only seventeen, and he started waving a gun around. I thought I was going to die.”

My heart races as if I’m suddenly back in the alley of that seedy bar, staring down the barrel of a gun. Tara reaches for my hand and squeezes tightly.

“Mango and Cherry took over. They disarmed him and then they started harassing him. Accusing him of all sorts of stuff because I was underage. I think they wanted to scare him because he terrified me. They got him to empty his bank accounts and we left with the cash.”

“Honey, that’s not your fault,” Tara says tenderly. “One, you were a kid. And two, he almost killed you. Losing his money? The least of his worries.”

“No, it gets worse.” My vision blurs and saliva thickens in my mouth. “A few nights later, he got really drunk because we’d basically ruined him. He went driving and ended up killing himself and another person. The cops tracked us down pretty quickly, I guess because of his bank accounts and then the bar. I was so scared. Someone died because of us. He might have been a terrible person, or just scared. I don’t know. But he died. And he killed someone else. Because of us.”

Tara moves closer and places an arm across my shoulders, but I resist her comfort. I don’t deserve it.

“I was scared of the cops too,” I continue. “So I told the truth. And because I was young, they offered me a deal. I guess they’d been after Mango and Cherry for a really long time and this was what they finally needed. I felt so guilty that I told them everything and Mango and Cherry went to prison. They let me go because I was a small fish I guess.”

“Is that why you’re looking them up?” Tara asks. “To see if they’re still there?”

Dabbing at my eyes, I pull the laptop closer and swallow hard. Each breath scrapes against the rawness in my throat, and my chest throbs.

“Sort of. After that whole thing, I became so much better at choosing marks. And I never forgot them because I knew they would know I put them away.” Digging around in my pocket, I pull out a small, worn photograph that’s been folded so many times my own face is creased out of existence. I show it to Tara.

“That’s Cherry. And that’s Mango.” I point them out in the group photo and Tara nods slowly. “But I saw Cherry the other night, at the dinner.”

“What?” Tara hands the picture back as her head snaps up. “She’s free?”

“I think so. It’s so early, though, so I’ve been trying to find out how that’s possible because they got sent away for a long time. I half thought it was a trick of my mind but I saw her a few times. Enough to be sure it’s her.”

“Not a twin?” Tara suggests with a small smile.

I shake my head and fold the picture back up.

“So if she’s out, she knows I put her away. And suddenly she’s here, so I’m …” I have no words. I can’t imagine what she will do to me if she finds me, and knowing Marco is busy with Leonardo leaves me feeling adrift and alone.

“I can ask around,” Tara says suddenly. “I have loads of contacts with the other families, especially with the staff at that dinner. I can poke around and see if anyone knows anything. Maybe we can find out who she was with.”

“You would do that?” I gaze up at Tara with wide eyes.

“Of course.” Tara squeezes my hand. “You’ve been so kind to me since you got here. It’s what friends are for, right?”

For a moment, I’m speechless. Deep down, I was expecting Tara to be horrified by what I had done, but then again she lives in this Mafia world. Maybe my actions are tame compared to what she has been around.

“Thank you, Tara. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” she smiles. “At least then you’ll have some facts, and it won’t be your mind running with what-ifs.”

“Can I ask for something else too?”

“Anything.”

“Could you pick me up a pregnancy test?”

Tara’s eyes drop to my stomach. “Are you … ?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but Marco was supposed to bring me the morning-after pill last week, and he hasn’t yet. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Just as Tara slides from the bed, the door opens and Marco strides in. I shove my old picture under the pillow and adjust myself so Marco doesn’t see.

He glances at Tara, and with one look, she bows her head and scurries from the room, but not before flashing me a comforting smile. With her gone, I wipe my eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Marco demands, pausing at the foot of the bed.

“Tara and I were watching videos of animals greeting owners that had been away for a while,” I lie smoothly. “It always gets me emotional.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, quickly redirecting to him. “Are you still trying to find Leonardo?”

“I found him last night but it …” Marco shakes his head. “That bastard makes no fucking sense.”

“Does he know about Emilia?”

“No. I mean … he’s convinced about my sister but then he gave me this.” Marco pulls some paper from his pocket and hands it to me. “He thinks this is my sister and seems pretty set in that knowledge.”

I glance down at the paper, and my body freezes like I’ve been tossed into a frozen river. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe; the picture before me dances in and out of focus.

It’s a picture of Cherry.