Page 19 of Pocketful of You

"Oh my god." My breath hitched at the sight of the brass door handle. "Is this…"

"Quiet," Dad warned, tightening his hold on arm so hard that I winced in pain. "He's inside?" he asked the giant brute guarding the doorway.

One stiff nod was all he received in return.

"Listen to me," my father said in a hushed voice, turning to look at me. "Keep your mouth shut in there. You knownothing. You remembernothing. Do not speak to anyone. Not one goddamn word."

"Daddy, please don’t do this–"

"It's already done, Ramona," he interrupted, and then he pushed the door inwards.

My breath left my lungs in an audible gasp when I was faced with a front-row view of my past.

The room.

The men.

I remembered their faces.

I remembered what happened in this room.

Sketch…

"Calisto Dillon," a man with a thick Italian accent acknowledged from his perch behind an enormous oak desk. Flanking him on either side were four men, all dressed in finely cut, black suits, all stoically silent. "It has been too long, no?"

Terrified and yet morbidly curious, I let my gaze trail over the formidable looking stranger and couldn’t help but recognize the resemblance he bore to the actor who played Rhett Butler inGone with the Wind. He was tall and strong, with dark hair and a moustache. Heck, the guy was even puffing on a cigar. But it was his eyes that struck a chord deep inside of my subconscious. I'd seen those eyes before.

Every day of my life.

Was this the man I was being traded to?

If so, what did he have that belonged to my father?

"Not nearly long enough, Raffaele," my father bit out, tone laced with venom. "Where is he?"

A low, rumbling laugh escaped the man my father had called Raffaele. "Ah, as direct and to the point as always." His eyes twinkled with mischief and a shiver rolled down my spine.Oh yeah, I definitely knew this man. "You have not changed, old friend," he continued to speak, his accent thick, his tone light and airy. "Of course, old friend is not the appropriate term for atraditore."

My Italian was non-existent at best, but I could recognize the wordtraitorin almost any language.

Danger, Romi.

You're in danger.

My father remained uncharacteristically silent, but I could feel the tension emanating from him as he stood beside me, hand still roughly gripping my arm.

"Tell me, Cal," the Raffaele man continued, sitting down in his chair and setting his cigar in an ashtray. "After all these years, how does it feel to look the man you betrayed in the eyes again?" A wide smile spread across his face, enhancing the lure of his attractive features. This man was as beautiful as he wasdark. "I can only imagine it feels like seeing a ghost, no?"

Dread settled deep in my stomach.

Something very bad was about to happen.

It was at that exact moment the man's attention flicked to me.

His piercing blue eyes locked on mine and I sucked in a sharp breath as a deep feeling of familiarity swept through me.

"Ramona," he surprised me by saying, curling theRin my name as he spoke. "You have grown."

Stunned, I could do nothing but stare right back at him.

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