Page 109 of Salvatore

“You’re such a sweet, young thing,” she murmurs. “But no, there’s nothing you can do. Apart from keep me company and continue to tell me about yourself. How about starting with your family?”

23

IVY

I lie.

It’s a punishing betrayal, but I can’t really tell an imprisoned mafia member that she’s being kept entertained by someone with my familial ties.

Instead, I concoct a story about being raised by a single mother and lean into the truth of my mom’s Greek heritage to explain my olive skin and dark features.

I’m too paranoid to dive into my mixed racial background.

Again, we talk for hours, until my eyelids droop and my body screams for sleep. And when I say goodnight and wait for her reply, I’m tempted to walk through the darkness and slide my arms between the metal bars to give her a cuddle.

When the following night falls, I don’t question whether or not I’ll visit her again. As soon as Catarina leaves for her cottage I lock the deadbolt behind her and take the steps to the basement two at a time.

For almost a week we chat like this, learning about each other and growing more comfortable in the shared company. Adena opens up about imprisoned life—how she misses the little things like fresh air and sunlight on her face. Apparently, every dayoverhead fluorescent lights turn on, allowing her to keep sane with knitting projects thanks to Salvatore bringing her supplies.

She updates me on the progress of these projects nightly, her woven patch of light blue wool quickly changing to resemble a sweater. She even coaxes me to come forward and feel the softness of the weave. But I’m too paranoid about being seen on camera.

When we’re not chatting, I’m planning what to share with her next. I’m sure I’ve blown my familial cover a time or two—first when I tried to add to a conversation about family traditions and mention my love of the Day of the Dead. And again when we discussed foods we don’t like and I happened to mention when my uncle forced me to try escamoles—a distinctively Mexican delicacy of insect caviar. But Adena doesn’t notice. Or if she does she doesn’t seem to attribute it to a sinister connection.

We’re too busy eating up each other’s lives. Bonding like best buds.

“You’ve been in better spirits these last few days.” Catarina places my breakfast in front of me, the generous spread of bacon, eggs, spinach, and fried tomato smelling delicious as always.

“Thank you.” I smile. “I guess I’m starting to feel more like myself again.”

I’ve always been social by nature, and Adena’s company has helped bring me back to life.

“Well, maybe Salvatore’s return will be the final brick needed to rebuild your confidence after all your misfortune.”

I pause in the middle of reaching for my glass of water. “Salvatore is returning?”

She grins and rounds the island counter. “He called and asked me to prepare for more mouths to feed. So as soon as I finish breakfast I’m on my way to the store. Is there anything you need while I’m gone?”

I shake my head, a lightness taking over my chest.

It’s been more than a week since I’ve seen him. Double-digit days where my injuries have healed and bruises faded, but those locked mental boxes of complications we need to discuss are still waiting in the wings.

“Do you have an ETA?” I start chopping into my meal, eager to rush down the stairs and tell Adena her son is coming.

“Not yet.” Catarina snatches a set of keys off the island counter. “If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”

As soon as she walks from the mansion and the birds squawk to announce her farewell, I rush to the kitchen with my plate, scrape my half-eaten meal into the disposal, then run for the basement.

“He’s coming,” I pant in greeting, her brightly lit cell seeming entirely foreign under the florescent light.

Adena stands from her seated position on her small cot, the large spool of wool on her lap falling to the floor. “Who?”

“Salvatore.” I bounce on my toes like a child, unable to contain my excitement for her… and okay, maybe a little for me too. I’m eager to see a familiar face, and even more enthusiastic to level up our catty tête-à-tête.

Adena’s eyes widen, her expression falling blank for numerous heartbeats before she relaxes into a cool smile. “Now?”

“Soon.” I nod. “Catarina just left to get groceries.”

Adena quickly places her knitting needles on the mattress and approaches the steel bars of her cage, grabbing them in both hands. “It’s important you don’t tell him you’ve been down here.” Her gaze pleads with mine. “There will be terrible repercussions for both of us. I’ll be punished and?—”

---