girl who I know isn’t anywhere in the mansion—she’s probably one of Madam Moretti’s cyprians. Where are her cyprians?”
Sian’s eyes dart between me and Nora standing behind me. She’s unsure about saying anything, but she’s beginning to trust us.
“The cyprians live all over the city,” she says. “They have their own homes; the Morettis don’t even have to watch them much, not like the girls in the mansion. They’re loyal to that insane woman; they’re set up with everything they need: clothes, medical care, food—who would want to run away or report the Morettis to the police? They live better than most people. And they’re protected.” She shakes her head, looks at the floor. “I wanted to be a cyprian”—her head shoots back up—“not because of the sex or the money, but because it was my way out. It was my and Emilio’s plan: he would work on his sister to get her to release me into service—to be a cyprian—sooner than normal, and then after I was in my own house, we would make a run for it.”
“And you believed he’d do that?” Izabel says from behind her. “He was playing you, using you. A man like Emilio doesn’t know the first thing about love. He’s a cold-hearted bastard—look what he’s done to those girls around you.”
“No,” Sian defends him, turning her head at an angle so she can see Izabel’s eyes. “Emilio would never hurt those girls—not like the Madam does. He whips them, I know, and he’s roughed them up many times, but only because he has to.” Sian’s eyes fall on me. “I’m assuming, like you had to last night when you punched me?” There’s no shortage of condemnation in her voice.
I nod. “Sorry about that. I was playing a role and you needed to shut up.”
Apparently I’m forgiven because she doesn’t argue with me about it.
“But Emilio couldn’t get the Madam to release me,” she goes on. “She became suspicious; maybe he talked to her about releasing me one too many times, I don’t know, but the plan backfired and the Madam decided to keep me in the mansion indefinitely. I should’ve been released two years ago—no one would buy me anymore; I’m twenty-four years old—but she knew, she knew Emilio loved me, and she wasn’t about to set me free. She couldn’t prove it, but she wanted to prove it. She could’ve just killed me on the suspicion alone, but she didn’t. I don’t know why.”
“Because of Emilio,” Izzy says. “She loves him and wants him to love her back, but by killing Sian”—Izabel looks at me—“she knew that would push him over the edge; he’d never forgive her. But the baby, that changed everything; the ultimate betrayal, and then it was Francesca who could never forgive. She would do anything to get back at her brother: killing Sian, or selling her to someone—a man—who’d not only hurt her, but violate her on a daily basis—it was the ultimate revenge against her brother.”
I agree with Izzy’s hypothesis.
“Enough about that,” Nora speaks up, walking around my chair in her panties and tank, her arms crossed. “Tell us about the cyprians: how do we find them?”
“I-I don’t know. All I know is what I told you. I’m sorry. What are you going to do with me?”
That is the burning question—what the hell am I going to do with this girl? The whole plan has gone to shit now that I’ve spent all of the client’s budget on Sian; now that I have her here and not Olivia Bram.
“Where are you from?” I ask.
Sian’s gaze strays; there’s a sadness in her eyes.
“My family lived in Miami when I was taken,” she says. “But that was so long ago. I don’t know if I have a family anymore. But you don’t understand—I can’t leave here without Emilio and our daughter. I won’t.”
I get up from the chair.
“Izzy,” I say, walking over to the closet in only my boxers, “I’m going to meet with Francesca in half an hour. You and Nora are going to stay with the girl; Nora will fill you in—and don’t argue with me about it; Francesca specifically requested I meet with her alone.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Good.” I step out of my boxers and into a fresh pair, then take a clean suit from the closet. I need a fucking shower, but it’ll have to wait.
“Have you ever heard of doing that shit in private, Niklas?”