The more body parts Val had smashed, the more Parisi had spouted information. He’d given up names of others in territories bringing teens to sell. It had taken longer to get the names of the ones bringing in the children. He hadn’t known where Miceli and his sons held them. Angelo was in charge of the children. Tommaso was in charge of the teens. Miceli’s underboss, Dino Lombarto, oversaw the entire operation, along with Marge, particularly the women. There was someone in one of the other famiglias overseeing the entire network, but Parisi had no idea who.
Emmanuelle knew the information was needed. She knew it was absolutely important to rescue the children, the teens and the women, and to put a stop to the network. It didn’t matter that closing one didn’t stop others from springing up. It meant saving those already out there. It meant stopping the insanity from continuing.
It was just that … this was Valentino. He was utterly cold. Utterly inhumane. So capable of turning off all emotion. She pulled out her phone and texted Henry, keeper of their large fleet of cars. She was tired and didn’t want to ride shadows. She wanted—no, needed—to feel human.
Need favorite Porsche ASAP. Can you deliver? If not, I’ll take cab to garage. Hotel Ferraro. Private entrance.
Stefano had cars in the private parking garage he’d let her borrow, but that meant saying something to him. Technically, the cars belonged to all of them, but she needed space from everyone.
On my way now.
She could always count on Henry. He was like the sun rising every morning. It didn’t matter if it was raining, you knew the sun was there somewhere, even if you couldn’t see it. She wished Henry could have been her father. Why couldn’t Eloisa have fallen in love with Henry? Maybe she had, but Henry wasn’t a rider. He had no way to wrap his shadow around Eloisa’s, and being a rider was all that was important to Eloisa.
Emmanuelle would have given up being a rider for Valentino. Val would never have given up his world for her. She could see that. Watching him in that conference room with those men, most far older than him, but all respecting him, some even fearing him, she knew she had been so naïve when it came to her childish fantasy of the two of them running off together and making a life away from their families. That had been her hope. She thought it had been his hope as well.
“Emme? Are you crying? I don’t think I’ve seen you cry since you were a little girl.” Henry reached a hand out to her to help her up.
She dashed at the tears on her face. She was turning into a regular faucet. That was what Valentino had reduced her to. Taking his hand, she scrambled to her feet, allowing him to pull her into an awkward hug. Henry wasn’t the hugging type. Even when she was little, he would pick her up if she fell, dust her off and pat her shoulder, telling her she was fine. She was somewhat shocked to feel that embracing him was like hugging an oak tree. His body was pure steel under his clothing. He kept himself fit. That was what working for the Ferraros did to you.
“I’m good. Just having a little pity party. You know how it is.” She pulled back just as he let go of her. The bruises on her chest were sore enough that coming up against anything hard was painful.
He dropped the fob for the Porsche into her palm as his gaze moved over her face. “If you say so.”
“Do you need me to give you a ride home?” It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she made the offer.
“Eloisa is picking me up.”
That shocked her. It was late. More than late. Eloisa didn’t put herself out for anyone, although Henry might have been the exception. The two recently had been together constantly. Emmanuelle had even wondered a couple of times if they were living together but had dismissed the idea as ludicrous.
“Thanks for rescuing me, Henry. As always, I knew I could count on you.”
“I was surprised you didn’t just take the shadows.”
“Stefano wants all of us to be more cautious until we understand more of what happens to the brain when we’re inside the shadows,” she said. That much was true. Eloisa had brain bleeds, significant enough damage that Stefano had insisted all of them have brain scans before they were cleared to take jobs again, especially if they had headaches. She had one now, and it was a significant one, although it had nothing to do with riding shadows.
Because she didn’t want to engage in any more conversation and she definitely didn’t want to see Eloisa, she slid behind the wheel of the Porsche, blew a kiss to Henry and entered the street. She was trained to watch for anyone tailing her, and she was extraordinary at getting rid of them as well. She could outrun just about anyone, including the cops. She kept a map of the city in her head at all times, including alleyways and entrances and exits of parking garages.
As it turned it out, she didn’t need any of those skills as she made her way home, far from the actual city. She loved her house. It was closest to Taviano’s home, but still miles away, with a heavily wooded area separating them, although there was a long winding path to take on foot, if one knew it, which she did. She’d only made that trek once to ensure she could use it in an emergency.
The property had come up for sale, and Taviano had put a hold on it instantly, knowing she would love it. The unbelievable house came with three precious acres of land, difficult to get, and she wanted privacy. The grounds were gated, giving her even more privacy. The land close to the house was landscaped with mature trees and plants with explosions of colors.
The side drive wrapped around to another house, a smaller version of the main one, which she called her couch house. There was a heated pool she did laps in at night to tire herself out so she could sleep. At least she tried to tire herself out. It didn’t matter if it worked or not. The pool was awesome, and the landscaping surrounding the pool and house was lush. She loved it.
The house itself was stunning. She loved the way it was clearly designed as an Italian Renaissance Revival country home. She felt the architects had succeeded. Two stories, it had a sweeping bridal staircase, which was one of her favorite features. The rooms were grand sizes. There were four suites on the second floor for guests. Each suite had a wonderful view of the lake, the pool, the forest or the lush landscaping. The suites were complete with their own enormous bathrooms and sitting rooms.
Technically, there was a third story. Emmanuelle called it an attic, but the spaces had been renovated at one time into offices. She had the cleaners keep them up, but she never used them. The attic ran the length of the house, so each of the four rooms was gigantic, too big for her to contemplate what one would do in such a large space other than turn it into a workout area. Her gym was in the basement, where it was cooler, and no one had access to it but her.
Her kitchen was fabulous. She actually really enjoyed cooking, although she never told anyone because Francesca and Taviano were the two chefs in the family and she wasn’t up to their capabilities. She dabbled in cooking. She learned by watching the cooking channels. It was fun and relaxing, and no one was around to see her mistakes.
The impressive foyer had mahogany wainscoting. There was a formal living room and a sunroom that overlooked the beautiful landscaping. The dining room led into her kitchen, and even the sunroom had an archway that gave a peek into the large, sunny room. Perhaps because she was Italian, she felt like the kitchen was the heart of her home. Certainly, when she was visiting Stefano and Francesca, dining was one of the happiest times she spent with her entire family.