Sacrificed To The Don They Now Regret novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: House Rules

Lorenzo locks Livia in the east wing, grills her in front of his half-blind sister and finds no lie; at the gate her brother Paolo shouts that her mother says to eat nothing the Don gives her.

"My mother thinks everyone kills hostages," I said. "She reads a lot of newspapers."

Lorenzo did not smile.

"You answered fast."

"You asked a fast question."

He took the phone out of my hand, read the text once more, and gave it back.

"Don't lie to me, Livia. It's the only rule I never bend."

"I'm not lying."

"Then what is going to be over soon?"

"Your five days," I said. "You wanted a hostage, and I'm in your car."

The man in front coughed into his fist.

Lorenzo went on looking at me for the rest of the drive.

His house stood on the hill above the harbor, all grey stone and lit windows, with men at every gate.

Nobody carried my bag, because I had none.

An older woman in a black dress showed me up two flights to the east wing.

The room had a bed, a window on the water and a lock on the outside of the door.

I noticed the lock.

Lorenzo noticed me noticing.

He stood in the doorway with his jacket off and the coffee stain still dark on his cuff.

"East wing," he said. "You don't leave the house without me. You eat what the cook sends up. You answer anything I ask."

"And you?"

"I don't touch hostages."

"That's one rule about you," I said. "Where are the other three rules?"

"You're the first person to ask me for rules." His mouth did not move, but something in his eyes did. "Sleep."

The lock turned behind him.

I did not sleep.

At nine the next morning he took me to the hospital himself.

His sister lay in a private room with both eyes wrapped in white gauze.

One hand lifted off the blanket when she heard the door.

"Lorenzo?"

"I brought someone," he said.

"The hostage." Her voice was dry and hoarse. "The doctor told me. Is she pretty?"

"Ilaria," he said.

"I'm half blind, Lorenzo. I get to ask."

I stood at the foot of her bed with my hands knotted.

"I'm Livia Santoro," I said. "I'm so sorry. My sister did this to you, and there is nothing I can say that fixes it."

Ilaria turned her wrapped face toward me.

"You didn't hold the tray."

"No."

"Then sit down," she said. "You're making the bed nervous."

I sat.

Lorenzo stayed by the window with his back to us.

A nurse brought in a tray of eye drops, and Ilaria asked me to read her the labels because she could not.

I read every one.

When I finished, Lorenzo spoke without turning round.

"The left eye is the bad one," he said to the glass. "The doctors say she may not see out of it again."

"I know."

"A Santoro did that." He finally turned. "And the Santoros sent a girl in a green dress to smile at me."

"I didn't smile," I said.

"You walked up to me in front of two hundred people and offered yourself."

"I offered myself because I did not want a war on my street."

"Or because it was the cleverest way into my house."

I stood up.

I was very tired and my hands were very steady.

"Ask me," I said. "Ask me anything. Ask me what I know about my family's plans, what my brother does at night, what is in our safe. I will tell you every true thing I have."

"And the false ones?"

"I don't have any. You'll have to find your own."

He asked.

For forty minutes, with his sister listening, he asked me about the Santoro docks and the Santoro money.

He asked who owed us and who we owed.

I gave him numbers, dates and names.

I had kept those books for two years and I knew every figure by heart.

Somewhere in the middle, Ilaria began to laugh, a small rusty laugh behind the bandages.

"Lorenzo," she said. "She knows the names of your men's mothers. You don't."

He went quiet.

"It's in the ledger I keep," I said. "Your men's families buy bread from us. Somebody has to remember who's sick."

He said nothing more, but he did not ask another question that day.

On the drive back, he sat on the far side of the seat.

When the car came up the hill, there was a shout at the gate.

A man was standing in the road with his hands up and a gun in one of them.

Six of Lorenzo's guards had their weapons trained on him.

It was my brother.

"Liv!" Paolo yelled across the grass. "Livia, tell them it's me!"

"Put it down," Lorenzo said, very softly, to the window.

"Liv, Mama says to tell you," Paolo shouted, his voice cracking, "don't eat anything he gives you!"

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