Five Dates with the Billionaire - Alyssa J. Montgomery Page 0,57
him, trying to figure out where to start.
This has to be done.
Resentment wouldn’t achieve anything and a confession might ease the tension thrumming between them.
‘I never intended for you to get caught up in this,’ she reinforced quietly.
‘I’m still waiting to understand what “this” is, Mia.’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
She lifted one hand to her temple and her fingertips worked against the tightness there. ‘My mother was English. Against the wishes of her parents she went off to Hollywood to pursue her dream of stardom.’ She ran her palm down her face and her heart cramped as she thought of her mother’s broken dream.
Keep it detached, Mia.
‘Instead, she struggled to make ends meet, fell in with the wrong crowd and got pregnant. She moved from Hollywood and I was born and raised in New York.’
‘You have no trace of an accent. How old were you when you moved to England?’
‘Almost sixteen, but I had elocution lessons when I arrived.’
‘Your father?’
‘I don’t know who he is.’ Standing up, she walked restlessly to the window and looked out onto the street below, still busy despite the lateness of the hour. ‘My mother was a destitute, illegal immigrant, long outstaying her visitor’s visa. With no job and no money, she became Giovanni Lucetti’s mistress.’
Connor straightened. ‘Is she still his mistress?’
‘No.’ Sitting again, she started to correct all the lies. ‘My mother is dead, but she didn’t die in a plane crash. That was the story the FBI invented—the story I was trained to trot out.’
Oh God, she had to get this out.
‘Mum was killed before I came to England. I…’ She swallowed down on the emotion clogging her throat. ‘I witnessed her murder.’
‘Oh, sweetheart. That’s why you’re in witness protection?’
The endearment was nearly her undoing. ‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’
It was too hard to look at him as she forced herself to recount the gut-wrenching memories as matter-of-factly as she could. ‘I’d been at a friend’s slumber party, and… well a lot of stuff was said about my mother and I raced home to confront her. But when I came into the house, I could hear her fighting with Giovanni.’
Closing her eyes for a moment, she heard Connor shift his chair forward. Then, her hands were clasped in the protective strength of his giving her the courage to continue.
‘My friends had been talking about Giovanni being in the Mafia, but all I knew was that he was my mother’s boyfriend.’ She shuddered.
‘Did your mother know about his connections?’
Shame washed over her and she pulled her hands out of his hold and hung her head. ‘Absolutely. He paid for our house—for everything. I feel dirty thinking about it.’
‘It wasn’t your decision.’
No. It hadn’t been.
Mia had always worried her mother had been forced into making bad choices to support her. Then Violet told her that her grandparents had reached out to her mother before she’d left Hollywood and offered their support. Her mother had been too stubborn, and maybe too ashamed, to return home. She’d gone to New York without telling her parents where to find her.
Her mum hadn’t been happy, but every time Mia urged her to leave Giovanni, she’d said, ‘We need him, Callie. Where else would we go? What would we eat? Without him, we’re on the street.’
Shutting down the memories of the fights she’d had with her mother she looked up at Connor. There was no distaste on his face. No judgement. Only patience and support. Her breath hitched because she loved him even more for it.
‘Giovanni was livid that afternoon and Mum sounded scared. She said she wanted to return to the UK.’ Mia’s pleading with her mother must’ve finally swayed her. But it had also got her killed and that was a burden of guilt Mia would carry forever.
The sharp sting of tears pricked her eyes and she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep them at bay.
‘Giovanni killed your mother?’ There was steadfast support in Connor’s voice as he encouraged her to continue.
‘Yes.’ The memories of what happened next hovered on the edges of her mind. Like blades scraping against a sharpening stone, they were honed into clarity and equally as cutting even after all these years. ‘I was at the bottom of the stairs and I saw Giovanni pick Mum up by the neck and push her against the wall.’ She shook as she remembered the horrible choking sound.
Connor stood and pulled her to her feet and into his embrace.