Cody glared but lowered his head when Remo turned to him.
“How much further does your business reach? Are there others we should know about?”
“No, it was only us.”
“Is he telling the truth, Eden?” Remo asked.
“Y-yes. We only just started.”
“Only just started. Sounds as if you had big business plans without involving the Camorra.”
Mom tugged a strand of her beautiful red hair behind her ear and gave Remo that smile she usually only gave her boyfriends. “I could tell you about the customers. I’m sure you could make so much more money with it. We were never professional. If you and your Camorra organized everything, you could make millions.”
Remo smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “You think so?”
“You should take a look at this,” the other man said. Remo turned and headed toward the desk. He looked at the laptop for a couple of minutes. Silence reigned in the room. The faces of both men didn’t show any emotion as they watched the screen. Remo shoved away from the desk. “Did you sell these videos on the Darknet?”
Cody didn’t react. He only blankly stared down at his feet. He looked as if he was praying but I doubted he believed in anything.
“Yes, we did. You could make even more money with it than with your racing and cage fighting,” Mom said. She reminded me of the mom she’d occasionally been back at home with Dad.
Remo only stared at me, not saying anything. Mom released my hand and touched my shoulder. I met her gaze. She gave me an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you show Mr. Falcone how nice you are.”
I nodded. I’d heard those words often in the last few weeks. I looked at Remo Falcone and he met my gaze. I forced the smile all the customers liked and padded closer to him. My flip-flops smacked loudly in the silence.
At first, I hadn’t wanted to do it, but it had only made things worse. Mom had told me I needed to behave then things would be better and eventually I had done what they wanted. It still hurt but Mom felt better when I didn’t fight.
“She’ll do whatever you want,” Mom said.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. Remo didn’t look at me like the other men had. He didn’t tell me how pretty I was and what a good girl. Suddenly his expression shifted to something dangerous, something wild, and he looked away from me.
He stalked past me and grabbed Mom by the throat. Cody had done it before. It had bothered me in the beginning, but now I felt empty too often. I knew I shouldn’t be okay seeing Mom getting hurt but everything in me was hollow.
“Remo,” the other man said.
“Are you really trying to give me your daughter for a joyride? You think I tolerate disgusting shit like that in my territory?” His voice became a low hum. “I bet you’d even watch me fuck your kid? You despicable whore wouldn’t bat a fucking eye, as long as you get your drugs and are far away from Grigory.”
Mom blanched.
“Remo,” Nino said firmly, nodding in my direction.
“You really think that shit’s still going to damage her after the shit that’s been done to her?”
“Dad?” I asked. Mom never talked about him and if she did only to tell me bad things.
Remo’s eyes slanted over to me. His fingers still held Mom by the throat. Cody was crying in the background.
“Nino, take the kid upstairs, give her food and decent clothes while I handle this situation.”
Mom sent me a begging look. I didn’t react. Begging doesn’t work, Mom, don’t you remember?
Nino appeared before me and held out his hand. “Come on, Ekaterina.”
My eyes widened. I put my hand in his and followed him outside. Before the door closed, I heard Mom whimper. “Please don’t hand me to Grigory. You wouldn’t believe what he’d do to me.”
“Probably the same thing I’d do to fucking scum like yourself.”
Nino led me upstairs. He picked up a Coke for me at the bar then we headed into a room with a bed and bathroom. I took a hesitant sip from my Coke, then gave him the smile Mom had taught me. He shook his head. “No need for that ever again, Ekaterina. Your father will be here soon, then you’ll be safe.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t know what safe meant anymore. I remembered feeling safe distantly. I remembered lying in Dad’s arms as he read me Russian fairytales. Mom didn’t