Page 72 of Reckless Desires

“Maisie.” My tone is a warning.

She pulls Serafina off the bar and whispers something in her ear. Serafina sees me and carefully approaches me.

“Hey, Lily.” Her sweet smile does nothing to ease me, especially as she stumbles around. “How was the gala?”

“Why is there a party here? It’s a school night, for crying out loud. I know Mom wouldn’t approve of this,” I say, my voice tinged with disbelief and frustration as I glance around the chaotic scene unfolding in our backyard.

Serafina, with her ever-casual demeanor, simply shrugs, her nonchalant behavior only adding to my irritation. “Mom said she wasn’t coming home tonight, and you typically don’t come home either," she retorts, a hint of challenge in her tone.

“Where is she going?” I press, my stomach knotting with anxiety. The thought of Mom being out somewhere without telling me is making me feel sick. Serafina rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by my questioning. “Serafina,” I prompt, my voice firm as I seek clarity.

“Okay, okay. Look, Mom met some guy on her trip, and she’s going out with him after the gala,” she finally admits, her discomfort palpable as she avoids my gaze.

“What? What trip? What guy?” My voice rises, a mix of shock and confusion flooding through me. I can’t wrap my head around the idea that Mom is out dating someone, especially when I feel so lost.

“Her trip to St. Tropez,” Serafina replies, her tone flat, as if it’s an everyday occurrence.

“She went on a trip while I was gone?” My heart races, a sick feeling welling up inside me. How could she leave when I needed her most?

“Yeah, she said she didn’t want to waste the money.” Serafina shrugs again, as if that explains everything. “It shouldn’t be a big deal. I mean you ditched her to go to Ireland.”

“I didn’t ditch her!” I can’t help but feel a surge of anger mixed with betrayal. It’s not her fault she doesn’t know the truth, but to think I’d just ditch our family like that. “And you’re just cool with her meeting a guy?”

“Well, Lily, Mom can’t stay alone forever. I mean, we all love Dad, but he’s gone. And once I’m off to college, she’ll be all by herself. I mean, she’ll have you, but you’re always off with some guy doing something,” she responds, her voice laced with a mixture of resignation and understanding.

I feel drained—physically and emotionally exhausted. The weight of my recent experiences hangs heavily on my shoulders, making it hard to process everything. “Get everyone out,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument despite knowing the party will continue regardless.

The realization that my mom went on a trip while I was being trafficked is too much for my mind to comprehend.

I take quick steps through the house, my feet carrying me up the stairs and toward my bedroom. I need to escape this chaotic scene. I rush into my bedroom to get out of this gown. It is beautiful, and I remember Alessio getting it for me. But now, I am just dying to get out of it. The boning of the corset top digs into my ribs, and when I finally get the zipper down, my lungs gasp in all the air it can take.

After removing my jewelry, I change into a white tank top, black yoga pants paired with flat sandals, and grab a cardigan before heading back out. As I walk outside, none of the kids are leaving, so I know the party will go on. Putting on my cardigan, I look over my shoulder at the house that I grew up in. I always joked with Mom that we needed something bigger, but now I feel ashamed about being so privileged. My hands grip the keys to my Maserati Grecale, custom light pink with black leather interior. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when Gavin bought it for me, but now my stomach knots in guilt for such luxury.

I find myself driving to Alessio’s, although I’m sure he is still at the gala. The housekeeper will let me in as usual without question. I just want to snuggle up in bed, and maybe I can pretend to fall asleep, so he doesn’t get any ideas. Then, in the morning, I can tell him it’s over, that we can’t do this. I won’t be someone’s mistress.

When I knock on the door, the housekeeper seems surprised to see me. “Ms. Andretti.” She smiles. “I was not expecting you.” She looks over her shoulder.

“Did Alessio get back?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“He did. He’s just in his office in a meeting.” She seems hesitant to let me in.

“I’ll just go upstairs. Let him know I’m here?” I step inside.

“Of course.” She nods.

Something feels off, but I’m not sure if it is my newfound paranoia or something else. Did she not want me to know who was in the office or not want me to hear what was being said? There were plenty of times Alessio would be in the middle of something and the housekeeper would just send me up to his room.

I turn toward her. “Do you mind getting me some sweet tea? Iced, of course.”

There is a brief sigh. It takes more time to make it, and it’s already late, but it is the only form of distraction I can think of.

“Of course, Ms. Andretti.” She nods and heads toward the kitchen.

As soon as she is out of sight, I dash toward Alessio’s office. There’s talking, but I can’t make out who is saying what. Giving up, I decide to use the bathroom next to the office. When I step in, I hear voices coming through the vent. It is a lot clearer than expected, almost as though it’s a secret way of listening in. Did Alessio know this?

“I’m not wiring anyone half a million dollars,” Alessio says. “The deal was that I get rid of the Russians and he brings her back.”

“The only way he was able to do that is to buy her.” I can hear it’s Cameron now speaking. “She was being trafficked.” Are they talking about me?