Giada laughs. “You need to learn Italian,” she reminds me. She motions to some sort of back garden. “They serve champagne on the patio. She wanted to know if you’d like a glass.”
“Oh. No. Thank you.
I prefer to stay sharp.”
Giada laughs. “Tipsy is the best way to shop. You go home with more.”
But your gun hand isn’t steady, I think.
“Go,” Giada motions. “Go get in that dressing room and try stuff on. I want to see.”
I go down the hallway and step into the dressing room. Slipping off my coat, I inspect the clothes waiting on me, not sure I even want to attempt to try all this stuff. Nevertheless, I sit down and take off my boots. “Ella,” Giada says at the door.
“Yes?”
“Matteo says Marabella wants him to drive her home. I need to make sure she’s just giving us time alone, and nothing is wrong.”
“Yes,” I say. “Go see. Now I’m worried.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Remembering how pale Marabella looked, I don’t like this one bit, and I quickly pull my boots back on. That’s when something comes sliding under the door. I look down and my blood runs cold, because I know what I’m looking at. One of the missing pages from my journal. Adrenaline surges through me, but that person I become at times, that deep down is really me, kicks in. I unzip my purse and make sure Annie is handy, and with her in reach, then, and only then, do I bend down and open the folded piece of paper, sucking in air when the writing belongs to Garner Neuville:
Bella. You should know I can get to you anywhere, anytime. And I can get to anyone you care about anywhere, anytime.
My phone rings, and I know, with gut-wrenching certainty, that it will be him.
I pull my cell from my coat pocket and glance at Unknown Number on the caller ID. Steeling myself to hear his voice, I whisper, “Fuck you,” to myself, but don’t speak into the phone.
“No hello, Ella? What kind of greeting is that?”
“What do you want, Neuville?”
“You and the necklace. So here’s what’s going to happen. Listen carefully and do not speak. You’re going to exit the back door and Matteo will be waiting for you. Good man, by the way. Very corruptible. I love that about him. Leave the phone. We both know it can be tracked. If you make a phone call or send a text after we hang up, Kayden and Adriel will die. The two of them are sitting across from Gallo, who I have on payroll. For how much, you ask? I paid him six million dollars, one million more than Kayden offered him to go away, and he’s been instructed to shoot Kayden and Adriel should either of their cell phones ring. I’m thinking that Gallo hopes it rings, aren’t you? Oh, and sweet Marabella and Giada. It would be a shame to see them die today, wouldn’t it? If you call anyone, someone dies. You have sixty seconds to make it to the back door or someone dies.”
“I’m not dressed,” I say quickly. “I need two minutes.”
“Ninety seconds.”
The line goes dead.
seventeen
Neuville will kill everyone I care about, just because I care about them.
That is the only thought I can afford right now, outside of how to warn Kayden before it’s too late to save him, and everyone around him and us. I have no room for worry, fear, or anger. Just rapid decision and action. I need that two minutes I asked for, not ninety seconds, and I have no choice but to risk taking it. I toss my phone down, having no doubt Matteo is monitoring any movement it makes via the satellite tower. By the time it hits the floor, my gaze is already on the space under the door dividing me from another seemingly empty room, as a wild plan forms in my mind. I’m under the wall in a split second, squatting and finding exactly what I need in yet the next room over: a pair of legs under that wall, which means a purse and phone should be present as well.
I go to my knees and lower myself to my elbow, face to the carpet, and scan for the purse that is thankfully on the floor, but it’s going to require me reaching deep into the room. The woman is dressing, her back to me, and I have no time to spare. I go all in, sliding my upper body under the wall and snagging the purse to drag it to me. The minute I have it, I dig for a phone, find it, and shove the purse back into the room, uncaring of where it lands. I’m already on my feet and dialing the one person I know isn’t in danger at the moment or corruptible, like those bastards Gallo and Matteo, praying she answers an unknown number.
“Bonjour.”
“Sasha, don’t speak, just listen,” I order. “This is life or death and if you’re in a public place, take cover now.”
“I’m not,” she says. “Go on.”
“Matteo’s dirty. Gallo’s dirty. Neuville’s here. He’s got guns on just about everyone, and don’t call anyone. Gallo will shoot Kayden and Adriel if their phones ring, or he might just do it anyway. Get creative and save them. I have to go.”
“You can’t go with him, Ella. He’ll kill you.”