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april 3rd
Our story begins…
one
Lindy
It’s been almost twenty-four hours since the gorgeous man-monster locked me in his white stone mansion off the coast of Greece. A picture of paradise, the blue-green waters of the Adriatic Sea splashing against a golden shoreline that stretches into grassy, low-rolling hills.
I’ve never seen a more beautiful place than this island. The Parrish, they call it. Owned by his powerful mafia family.
And my prison for the unforeseeable future.
The air around me is electrified with the unknown. I could almost enjoy my confinement if my knees weren’t weak, my stomach in a constant state of flip-floppy-ness, my mind hazy with fear, wondering what my captor has in store for me.
I have no idea where he is.
Or when he’s coming back.
Taking the last sip of my champagne, I roll the stem of the empty glass between my thumb and forefinger as I stroll the halls. I’m free to roam, unaccompanied, anywhere within these white-painted walls. I’m not to step outside without an escort. He didn’t mention what would happen if I were to break this rule, but the way the information was delivered to me has me firmly planted indoors.
I run my fingers lightly over the top of a long, polished wood table that lines the hall. When I pull my hand away, it’s clean, faintly smelling of lemon polish. Not a speck of dust seems to be allowed in this beautifully decorated Mediterranean home.
Red-and-blue Persian wool rugs line the floors. Empire-style chandeliers hang overhead, casting a soft light over the halls. Crystal vases hold bouquets of wildflowers, their delicate green stems reaching up into impressive purplish-blue blooms.
Their soft scent lingers as I pass. A gentle reminder.
The gardener tells me these flowers grow on all these Greek islands. Aconite, they’re called. The leaves have been removed from the plants, as they, along with the roots, are extremely toxic.
They were used by the ancients as poison.
A warning in plain sight. Enjoy the view. Follow the rules.
I’m torn between a perpetual sense of danger that has my heart lunging into my throat and my knees going weak, and an overwhelming sense of adventure and excitement. I’m secretly thrilled to have been pulled from the pain and shame of my ruined life in the suburbs of New York.
I’ve been transported to an exotic place, my every need being catered to. The Parrish is an island I’ve researched but wasn’t sure truly existed. And now, here I stand, in the flesh, at a place most have only daydreamed of visiting.
Only, I don’t think they’d be held captive in their fantasy.
A slight man with silver hair and a brisk walk makes his way to me. He’s dressed in a navy blue V-neck sweater, embroidered with the gold crest of the family. He wears a white dress shirt underneath, the collar neatly folded over the neck of his sweater.
I was exhausted when he’d shown me to my room last night after introducing himself. What was his name? Something to do with the moon landing…
Apollo.
“Hello, Apollo!” I give a little wave. “So nice to see you again.”
“Good evening, Miss Lindy!” Apollo calls, his English almost perfect. A bright white smile beams from his almost wrinkle-free, olive-skinned face. He reaches for my empty glass. “Can I offer you a second champagne?”
“No, thank you.” With the strangeness of my new life, the first one has already gone to my head. I hand him the glass. “But thanks so much for the offer.”
He hovers for a moment. “Cheese? Crackers? A bit of fruit to tide you over till dinner?”
There’s no way I could eat now. Too nervous. But I do appreciate the never-ending offering of food.
I shake my head. “No, thank you, Apollo. You are too kind.”
His dark brow furrows. “Forgive me, but… too kind? Did I make a mistake?”
