Her hand slid over his, the one locked around her waist. She pressed her palm tightly over his and then her head bent toward her other hand, and her mouth came down over her palm, her teeth biting down as if to keep from screaming for both of them.
“I was afraid they would kill me before I could get back to my family. They threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I think they were going to arrange an accident, but then Eloisa showed up to take me back. Stefano had come home, and he was furious. I told Eloisa everything on the plane ride home.”
Abruptly, he stopped speaking. He couldn’t find his voice. He was that scared, hurt ten-year-old boy all over again, when he had closed that door and thought it would remain closed so many times over the years.
“What did she do? She must have been so angry.” Nicoletta’s voice was muffled. It sounded as if she was crying.
“She looked at me so coldly. I thought maybe she was frozen. Like ice. I kept thinking that. That she was ice inside, and I wished I was ice inside. I wanted her to put her arms around me, but I knew she wouldn’t. She just stared at me. And then she told me we had to talk to Phillip first, before anyone else.”
“Phillip? Your father?”
“Stefano is my brother. He might be older than me, but he’s still my brother, and at that time, Eloisa was the head of the Ferraro family. What she said went. Phillip was a rider, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t train the way he should have, and he didn’t ever go into the rotations to work as a shadow rider. Eloisa was the respected rider. She didn’t say another word to me until we reached Chicago and Phillip met us at the house.”
Again, Taviano had to pause. He tried not to think or feel like that ten-year-old boy. He’d seen the distaste in his father’s eyes. The utter repugnance. “My father never looked at me after that day. He told Eloisa that if she made it public that his son had allowed two forty-year-old men to play with him for months, he wouldn’t stick around. It was bad enough that he had to know about it and see the kid every day.”
“What?” Nicoletta’s outrage spilled over, not only in her voice but in her body as well. The rage that was in him poured off her. “That’s insane. Your own father had that reaction? You were ten years old. How could you stop two forty-year-old men? That’s crazy, Taviano. Utterly insane.”
“He couldn’t look at me. He wanted Eloisa to ship me back to Italy. He told her another family of riders would be happy to have me. He all but insisted. In the end, they compromised. She didn’t want to lose her status as a rider, so there could be no divorce. That meant no counseling for me, and no one else, particularly Stefano, could know what happened, but I had to remain in the home. Phillip gave in and allowed me to stay so that Stefano wouldn’t have any idea anything was wrong, but he still refused to have anything more to do with me.”
“I can’t believe your mother would be okay with that. That makes no sense. What about any other child sent to those terrible men?”
“Those men, who I’m not certain were really on the books as riders anymore, were found dead with their necks broken a few weeks later.”
“That had to be Eloisa, right? At least she did that for you.”
“I wanted to think Eloisa killed them to serve justice or to avenge me, but my guess is she did it to keep anyone from finding out the actual truth of what happened, especially Stefano. He might have killed her. He still might if he finds out.”
He was making that a distinct warning. It wouldn’t serve any purpose telling Stefano, nor would he want him—or the others—to know after all this time. He understood why Nicoletta had trouble looking at him when he knew so much about the details of her past and what her step-uncles and Benito Valdez had done to her. He hadn’t filled in the details for her, but it had all been done to her, so she knew. He didn’t want to have to face Stefano and the storm that would follow when his brother realized he hadn’t been protected as a child. It would be difficult enough to face Nicoletta in the light of day.CHAPTER EIGHTNicoletta squeezed her eyelids tight against the hot tears she couldn’t stop on Taviano’s behalf. She should have known. He held himself in such rigid control at all times. He wanted to be the one in control. He was watchful. Careful. Saw everything. Was aware of everything.