The truth is I hadn't seen him in three days. He vanished from the parts of the house I stayed in and I had told myself he was ill and then told myself I didn't care whether he was ill and then on the second day I went to his study to bring him water and I had heard his voice through the door.
He had been talking to Renzo. I heard about my father's plan to "rescue" and about a woman.
A woman he had been searching for.. A woman he had gone to considerable lengths, through my father, to find. A woman whose name he hadn't said but whose importance had been audible in the spaces between every word.
I pull his hand off my arm.
"I eavesdropped," I say. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." I look at a point past his shoulder because looking directly at him right now requires more composure than I currently have available. "I want to help you get your favor so I can go back to New York. That's all. Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it."
Back to my life, I think. My miserable, empty life in a downtown apartment where the only person who calls is Alana, and only then when she wants something.
"This will be over soon," he says.
I nod. I start to turn and then I stop because if I don't say it now I will carry it around and it will get heavier. "I owe youan apology." I keep my voice even. "For what I said in the bathroom. For asking you to—" I pause. "I didn't know about her. About the woman. It was shameless to ask you for sex and I'm sorry."
He says nothing.
"You should have just told me you had someone," I say, and I almost manage to make it sound like a practical observation rather than what it actually is, jealousy. "I would have understood."
"You heard it," he says.
"Yes." I look at him properly for the first time since I stood up off the floor. "I never thought you'd go through all of this for a woman." I hold his gaze. "She must be extraordinary. To make you want her like this."
His hand finds my wrist.
"Are you trying to get on my nerves?" His voice has an edge.
I laugh. It comes out dry. "How could I?" I look at my wrist in his grip and then at his face. "I'm a naive stupid girl who always wants the people who don't want her back. My father. And apparently even the man who kidnapped me." I pull free. "You'd think I'd learn."
He says nothing.
"Can I at least get Chinese food?" I ask.
"I'll have it delivered to you."
"Thank you."
"I'll take you back."
"It's not like I have a choice," I say, and I walk to the door.
The drive back is the longest of my life.
I sit against the window with my arms folded and I look at the city going past and I think about what I heard through his study door. He wasn't lying when he said I wasn't his type.
I had mistaken proximity for something it wasn't, which is a thing I do, apparently, as a matter of personality.
I watch the lights.
I decided last night that I was going to focus on going home. When this is over, when my father has been dealt with and Luca has whatever he needs, I will go back to New York and I will tell my father I want to go abroad and he will agree because I will be out of his way and that will be that. A new city. A new start. I will learn to want things that are actually available to me. I should never have come here in the first place.
It is a very sensible plan. I look at the window as we pull through the gate and I push the door open and step down and my foot hits the ground and the pain shoots up from my heel with a viciousness that makes me pull in a sharp breath and grab the door to stay upright.
I had forgotten about the shoes.
They are half a size too small, a detail I had not mentioned to the maids who dressed me because I didn't want to cause trouble, and three hours of standing and walking and dropping to my knees on a stone floor have made the oversight extremely difficult to ignore.
I straighten and take one careful step.
