Twisted Bond by SR Jones

Chapter Six

Amelia

My heart pounds hard and fast. Oh my God, I did it. I can't believe I've done such a thing. Gio gets into the car and sits right beside me.

I watch as Georgie and the other girl, Rina, climb into the second car. Rina seems genuinely a little bit crazy to me. I don't think that's the politically correct term for it, but she was talking about the ancient wood spirits, and how we could perhaps find a fairy glen to make a wish on. All that while we were fleeing a fire. To be honest, she scares me a little.

I hope she doesn't cause trouble for the other men.

I'm in a car with Gio. Gio.

I can't take it all in.

He came for me.

How did he even find me?

What is he doing here?

He came to rescue me, and that's wonderful, but even better is that I rescued myself. I steal a glance at him, nervous as to how he'll be with me. I ran away. Lied. I lied to so many people, I tricked people, and then I put myself in danger because I didn't trust Giovanni. I stupidly trusted my grandmother. There's so much I need to tell Gio.

The car has pulled away from where it was parked and is driving smoothly down a darkened road. I glance through the trees and clap both hands over my mouth to muffle the scream. The building is ablaze. Oh dear God, I'm going to go to prison for a long time. I'm an arsonist now. Maybe I did deserve to be locked up? Possibly, I am quite crazy.

“I'm so relieved you're safe,” Giovanni says.

He doesn't know that I caused the conflagration. What will he think of me when he finds out?

I wipe sweat-slick palms on my pants and stare in horrified fascination out of the window as the building comes into clear view.

“Dear God, don't let anyone die in that fire. Please Lord, don't make me a murderer.”

Gio twists in his seat to face me. “What do you mean, don't make me a murderer?”

I can't tell him. He'll despise me. In fact, he'll probably send me somewhere even worse.

I look at him, swallow, and glance out of the window as I clasp my hands together tightly.

A warm, dry palm covers my hands. I glance down, amazed I hadn't realized how large his hands were before. Beautiful too. The sort of hands you could paint or sculpt, if you had the talent.

“Haven't you learned yet that you can trust me, Dolcezza?”

“It's not that I don't trust you,” I tell him. “It’s that I’m afraid you’ll hate me when I confess everything that I have done.”

“Amelia, this is serious. Tell me now—did you have a hand in this?” He touches the window lit up in a glowing orange haze, like everything else around us. Set alight, in appearance at least, by the flames consuming the building.

I need to trust someone. I'm ricocheting around from one mad moment to another, doing crazy things and getting myself into more trouble each time. He came for me, didn't he?

“I lit the fire.”

Nothing.

He says nothing, and the seconds tick agonizingly by.

“We need to get you out of the country,” he finally states.

“Are you angry?”

“Amelia, my anger, or lack thereof, is the least of your worries. If someone dies in that fire, you'll be wanted for murder in this country. Even if no one is injured and they somehow trace it back to you, then you're liable for a hell of a lot of expense.”

“You don't understand,” I tell him. “I think they were doing terrible things there. People were not there freely of their own will, or even there properly decreed by a medical doctor or a judge. At least, I certainly wasn’t, and I don’t think my mother was. They take people, Giovanni. I think they did the same thing to my mom.”

He sighs and squeezes my hand. “They most certainly did do the same thing to your mother, Amelia. I have information I can share with you. I was going to suggest we go back to the house that I've rented on the beach and maybe spend a few days here. I was going to talk to you about everything and let you decide whether you wanted to confront your grandmother right now. This changes everything, though. We need to get you out of the country urgently.”

I don't understand. Giovanni has so much power. He actually sounds scared, which sends a shiver right down my spine.

I swallow thickly and turn to stare out of the window as we finally, thankfully, leave the dreadful burning building behind.

“You have so much power, though, correct?” I ask him, pushing the point. He can protect me, no? He can help the others. Clearly, he isn't scared of my grandmother as he said he'll stay with me a few days and we can confront her. Grandmother has a lot of money and a lot of power in these parts. If she doesn’t scare him, who would?

“What they are doing is illegal.” I push when he doesn't answer.

“Amelia, my darling. You don't have to justify or defend your actions to me. I’d burn that place to the ground myself gladly, five times over. The issue is I don't have any power here. Whilst your grandmother is not a particularly dangerous adversary, despite her old money ties, the people who run this place may well be. I don't know enough about them yet. I can't risk us being here and you being found. I thought we'd be okay to stay awhile because I didn't believe they would come after you and risk exposing themselves. But now, with what you've done, I don't believe you'll be safe. We need to leave tonight, and I need you to agree to come back to Italy with me.”

No tricks. No library full of books to entreat and entrap me. Just a simple truth.

“Do you want me to come back with you?” I ask. “I know you came here for me. But now, with this... I would understand...” I’m gutted we can’t help the others who may have been held against their will, too, but maybe Damen or even the Russians can investigate the place and do something to alert the authorities.

Softly, Gio says. “I don't think there's anything you could do, Amelia, that could stop me from loving you. What that says about me, I don't know, except that you've completely and utterly captured my heart.”

I turn and look at him, finally making eye contact. Who is this man putting everything on the line and declaring his love? And what has he done with my hard-faced Italian banker?

“You love me?”

Love. That thing I've been chasing all my life. The elusive thing I've wanted from my parents and grandparents. The thing I never quite seemed to get, no matter how hard I tried, except from MeeMaw. Then I fell for Giovanni, and I believed once again my feelings were not reciprocated in the same way. It seems I couldn't have been more wrong.

“Of course, I love you,” he says. He shakes his head and gives a dark, bitter laugh. “I wish in many ways that I didn't, for your sake more than my own. However, I don't generally take my private jet and chase women from one continent to another. I screwed up, Amelia. I admit that, and I understand that. I should have been more truthful with you from the start. From that first moment I saw you all those years ago in your father’s library, on some strange level that I can't understand, you've been it for me.”

“How did you find me?” I ask, changing the subject, too overwhelmed and scared to focus on his declarations in this moment.

His mouth tightens, but he gives me the out. “Damen. He hacked into information and emails between your grandmother and the doctor who runs that place for a very shadowy group of people. Damen has been a great help. He and Maya are still at the house. You've made a friend for life in that girl, I can tell you.”

I smile at the thought of Maya. I like her so much, but I have a feeling she won't forgive me easily for the way I tricked her.

“I don't know how you can forgive me,” I tell him.

“If you can forgive me for everything I did, then I think I can forgive you in return. How about a clean slate?”

“That sounds like a deal. I'm relieved, to be honest, because you’d once threatened me with all sorts of punishments if I’d committed much more minor transgressions than this.” I speak without thinking.

His hand squeezes mine tighter, and he leans in close, his warm breath brushing across my cheek and tickling just below my ear. “I said I forgave you, my sweetness. I didn't say you’d escaped being punished.”

I tremble where I sit, and I don't know whether it's in fear, excitement, or that strange mix of both that Giovanni seems to inspire in me. I realize then that fear is not quite the right word. It's not fair, because I'm not scared of this man next to me. No, it’s more akin to ... trepidation. I'm pretty sure that whatever punishment he devises will be torturous and leave me a shaking, quivering wreck.

“So, what's the plan?” I ask.

“The plan is we get back to the house quickly, pack the bags, and leave. I'm afraid you won't have your things with you, but you will have all you need at the villa.”

Not quite all I need. My passport and papers are at my grandmother’s. It hits me then - what about my new friends? They'll be in trouble, and if I disappear, they'll probably be linked to the fire and blamed.

“Giovanni, just how much do you love me?” I ask him.

“Why do I feel this is a leading question?”

I smile at him in the dark and shake my head a little. “I'm worried for my friends. I wonder if there's maybe room on the plane for them. Well, I should say friend because I don't really know Rina, the girl with the dark hair. I only know Georgie, the girl with the curly hair. She's the whole reason I managed to escape.”

He mutters a curse in Italian under his breath. “You're going to turn me into an Italian version of that stupid Russian who spends his life rescuing damsels in distress, aren't you?”

“You may have forgotten, but you've already rescued a few damsels in distress of your own accord. You saved those Swedish girls.”

“I didn’t save them,” he says with a world-weary sigh. “Far from it. I take your point, however.”

He pats my leg, almost absentmindedly as he turns to glance out of the window.

“If they wish to come, then they can. However, they won't have any of their papers with them, and that means they won't easily get back into America. They will need to understand that if they leave their country now, in this way, that might be it for them.”

“Does the same apply for me?” I ask.

“No, my sweetness, because I will do all I can in my power to acquire new papers for you. Once I understand fully how deep the threat against you runs, they will either be in your name, or we will buy you a whole new identity. Damen can probably sort that out for you.”

Unable to resist any longer, and needing the comfort of his warm, solid frame, I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. That delicious scent of his, so familiar and yet still so exotic, wraps itself around me like tendrils of smoke. Closing my eyes for a moment, with his warm hand covering mine, and his shoulder under my cheek, I tell myself everything will be okay.

I don't know if anything will really be okay ever again. Giovanni has things to tell me about my mother, and I know deep down that they'll be terrible things. I'm not ready to hear them yet. I need to be in a stronger place before I let him tell me what befell my poor mother in that horrific place.

A gentle kiss on the top of my head has me closing my eyes again as warm tears snake out from under my lids and run down my cheeks. I stay like that, silently crying on his shoulder, as we drive through the night.

When we arrive at the house Gio has rented, I step out of the car and take in a deep breath of ocean air. I stare at the house on stilts and think how beautiful it is. It might have been nice to spend a day or two here getting my head together after the events of the last few weeks, but I totally understand Giovanni’s worry. And the more I think about it, the more I can't wait to leave this place in many ways. Giovanni promised me sunshine and lemons, and I know that will be waiting for me back in Italy. There will be other things waiting for me too.

Things between a man and a woman. Dark and seductive deeds. Painful but pleasurable punishments. There will be the villa too. And the library. My library, as I think of it. My heart soars when I think of the library. I can't wait to be back amongst those books again, walking over those tiles with the breeze blowing in through the windows. It's such a magical place. Peaceful, beautiful, and full of knowledge and history. I don't think I've ever been happier than some of those times I spent in that library.

“Come, let's get you inside before anybody has a chance to see you. I don't know if there might be anybody on our tail or watching us already,” Giovanni says as the other two cars pull up and disgorge their contents.

Various large, dark-haired men and the two girls who escaped with me, mill around.

Giovanni gives orders to the men in rapid fire Italian. Giovanni takes my hand and pulls me up the steps to the house, two at a time. He takes a key from under a pot by the door, which strikes me as oddly trusting by the owners, and lets everyone inside.

“I don't want to know what you two ladies did tonight.” Giovanni addresses my friends immediately as soon as he's flipped the light switch on. “All you need to know about me is this—if you wish to leave this country, you can do so tonight. You won't need your passports, and you won't need money. However, I don't know how long it will be before you will be able to return.”

“I can't leave,” Georgie says. “My father is sick. It's one of the reasons I started acting out so badly toward Mother because she didn't give a damn. I know they’re divorced and everything, but she really is a cold-hearted cow. I need to go see him. Now that I'm away from her, and away from that place, I can get to him. Once I'm there, I know he will protect me.”

“It might not be as easy as you think to keep yourself protected from the people who own that place,” Giovanni warns her.

“I'm not scared,” she says. “My daddy is the president of the Raptors MC. If it wasn't for the fact that he's been dealing with cancer, I’d have asked him to come and get me a long time ago. If I'd have guessed what my mother would do to me, I'd have run away from home and asked him to send one of his men to pick me up. As long as I can get to the compound, I'll be safe.”

“Are you sure?” I ask her. “You distracted them, and they might believe you have more to do with it than you do.”

“I'm not scared of them,” she replies. “Like I say, my daddy can keep me safe. That place is gone and done for. Burned to the ground. I doubt there’ll be anything left standing once the fire department is done with it.”

“What if someone got killed?” I ask the one thing that's been riding me hard ever since we got in the car. “I could never forgive myself if that happened.”

“No one will have. We can't say for certain, obviously, but everybody got out on the floor we were on. The people in their bedrooms were all marching calmly down the stairs when I left the movie. The alarms went off as planned and so did the sprinklers. If there's a fire, the doors to every room, even those that are normally locked, open automatically. The guards have a routine in case of a fire, where they check every room with flashlights as soon as the fire alarm rings. I think everyone will have got out okay. Trust me.”

She frowns then and shakes her head. “The thing is, Amelia, that place has probably killed more people than you ever could have. And those it didn't kill, it ruined their lives. I'm sure there were plenty of us there legitimately, and I'm pretty sure a lot of the staff didn't know exactly what was going on. I mean, come on, it's hardly new is it for someone locked in a mental institution to say that they shouldn't be there? I imagine the staff and counselors believed it was the usual protestations whenever anybody said they were there illegally. There were people there illegally, though, if you ask me. We talked amongst ourselves, and some of the stories would give you nightmares. The place was profoundly fucked up. You've done a great service reducing it to rubble.”

“We can't stand around talking, Amelia,” Giovanni tells me softly. He's talking to me like I'm a baby bird that's injured or some terrified rabbit, and I don't like it. I want my domineering, commanding Giovanni back. That's a conversation for another time, though. Right now, he's correct, and we need to get out of here.

“Are you sure you won't come with us?” I take Georgie’s hand in mine and squeeze it tightly.

“I'm sure, hun.” She turns to Rina and raises her brows in question.

Rina shakes her head and bites her lip. “No, thank you for the offer, but me neither. I need to get back to my family, and anyway, I was in there legitimately.” She gives a soft, vulnerable little laugh. “I signed myself in two months ago, after a pretty full-on breakdown. In some ways, they've helped me. But in many others, they've done nothing but harm. I'm glad to be out of there, but I'll probably end up somewhere else.”

I give her a small hug on a whim, and she hugs me back, her tiny frame bird-like. Then I smile at them both.

“Hey,” she says suddenly. “Can we stay here?”

“Be my guest.” Gio hands her the keys. Then he takes his wallet out of his pocket and counts off some bills. He hands her what looks to be a few hundred. “Take this too. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll do what I can.” He hands her a business card. Then he repeats the gesture with Rina, giving her money and a card too.

“Keep in touch, won’t you?” I ask Georgie. I don’t really know her, but I feel as if we’ve experienced something momentous together.

“Yes, of course, I will. Send me a postcard from Italy. And hey, who knows, one day I might come visit,” she leans in close and whispers, “The men are all so hot. Look at them.”

Marcello, Matteo, and the other men are all gathering their things together, racing up and down the stairs with bags and storing them in the cars outside.

When they’re finally ready, Matteo informs Giovanni that we can set off for the airport. We have clearance to fly within two hours, he says in English, which I am sure is for my benefit.

I turn to Georgie and throw my arms around her, giving her a big hug.

Georgie hugs me back, and then my hand is grasped firmly. Giovanni heads to the door, pulling me behind him. He says something in Italian to Marcello, and we descend the steps and race into the cars in a whirlwind of activity.

**

The airport is a small, private strip. We are ushered into a lounge full of cream leather chairs and walnut tables, by a lady who looks like she fell off the cover of Vogue. Everyone is offered drinks, and I take a vodka neat, no ice. I need it after the day's events.

I’m shocked when Giovanni takes it away and puts it to one side. “No alcohol, Dolcezza. They gave you drugs at the hospital, and we don’t know what.”

“I didn’t take any this evening,” I say. “And I was only there a few days.”

“Doesn’t matter. Until you’ve been checked out by a doctor, we need to be careful.”

I sigh and instead sip at the water he requests for me.

By the time we all file up the steps of the plane, I'm mellow despite not having had any alcohol.

The adrenaline crash has me in a pleasant daze, but I know all too soon reality will come crashing in. Unlike the first time I rode on this plane, this time I know exactly where I'm going and what awaits me there. I'm not nervous in the way I thought I would be. Even if my grandmother hadn't turned out to be a sociopathic menace to society, I think this would have always been my destiny one way or another. And I'm okay with that. More than okay with it.

Every now and again a wave of anxiety followed by a wash of nausea rushes over me, displacing the lovely calm.

“I need to find out if anybody was hurt in that fire,” I whisper to Giovanni.

I don't think I could live with myself if they were. The enormity and reality of what I have done keeps hitting me. “You know, maybe I did belong in that place after all. How could a perfectly sane person do such a thing?”

“Don't you dare say that to me again.” Gio turns stone-faced toward me from where he has been staring out of the window, lost in thought. “You did what you had to do. That place ... it's all kinds of wrong. Look what they did to your mother.”

His face falls the moment he realizes what he said.

“That's just the point, though. I don't know what they did to my mother. I don't want to talk about it now either. It's all too raw.”

“At the end of the day, the way I see it, you did what you had to do to get yourself out of there, and I admire that.”

Of course, he admires it because it's exactly the way he lives his life. For Giovanni, the ends always justify the means. It is the whole reason his stupid underground fight club exists. It is the whole reason he bought the villa ultimately, because it all cements his position and that of his family. It's not the way I've lived my life until now. I don't know if Giovanni’s actually killed anyone before, but I wouldn't be surprised if there isn't death on his hands that occurred in that club. But for me, if I ever found out that I had been responsible for something like that, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

Giovanni takes his cell out of his pocket and briefly touches my knee with his fingers.

“I need to make a quick call; just give me one moment,” he says. Then he stands and stalks down the cabin.

I watch him go, all broad shoulders and long lean, powerful limbs. He’s wearing his dark suit like it is armor.

While he's gone, I stare out of the window and watch the inky night speed by. Soon, I'll be away from gray skies, cold grandmothers, and draft filled houses and back in the villa in the sunshine. Sunshine and lemons have never sounded so good.

“Would you like a drink?”

I glance up to see a glamorous flight attendant smiling down at me. She's stunningly beautiful, and unless she is another member of Gio's extended family, I don't like it one little bit that she works for him. Of course, I don't say anything and plaster a smile on my face as I give her a brief nod.

“Just a glass of water, please.”

I’d prefer vodka, but I get where Gio is coming from.

A shadow falls over my lap, and I glance up. Giovanni takes his seat opposite me and shoots a smile my way.

“You can stop worrying, Dolcezza. Damen has been following the communications of the doctor who runs the institution, and I've just spoken with him. Doctor Rosendale texted the chief of police thirty minutes ago demanding that you, Georgie, and Rina be found immediately. He's apoplectic about the ruination of his business, but one snippet of information exchanged between the two men was that nobody was injured, and nobody died. So, you can put your mind at rest.”

“Thank you,” I breathe.

Thank you. Two small words that mean so much. I don't just mean thank you for finding out what happened after the fire, but I mean thank you for so much more. I want to thank him for coming to find me. Thank him for actually giving a damn about me. Thank him for introducing me to sunshine and lemons and showing me there's an alternative to the gloom and doom of the life I was leading. I don't say any of those things because all around us talking loudly in Italian are his men.

When we arrive in Italy, I decide I'll show Giovanni exactly what he means to me.

After all, actions speak louder than words.