Me: Liliana’s stuff. She said they were in her motel room. Her phone and some other shit.
Elio: Oh right. I retrieved them already. I’ll have it sent over.
An hour later, one of his guards delivers a backpack to my house. I head over to my bedroom, tossing the meagre contents on to my bed. It’s just some clothes, books, her laptop. But then my gaze snags onto a leather worn book. When I open it, I realize it’s a song book. Filled with lyrics. I settle down on my bed, going through it for so long that time passes around me while I’m stuck in a daze.
Her lyrics are just as entrancing as her voice had been. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m the devil with the dark eyes and a heart of lies that she’s referring to on a couple of the pages. She doesn’t write about him like she hates him. She writes like he has a soul, one that she deems worthy of saving.
I’m not sure she really believes that though.
I definitely don’t.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LILIANA
I’ve always believed myself to be a nice upstanding member of society. I pay my taxes, I mind my own business and I even feed the homeless sometimes when I have more than enough for myself. Basically, I’ve lived my life as a wonderful human being with a clear indication of what right and wrong is. I thought I knew what lines to cross and that my morality was solid.
I thought wrong.
As I sit in the bedroom where my daughter was conceived, I stare at the knife in my hands and consider the possibility of murdering her father with it.
It would be easy. As the last couple days have proven, I actually do have good aim. Rafaelle could walk in here and with a single throw I could end his life. He does have fast reflexes so maybe I’ll only make him angry enough that he disregards whatever is holding him back from killing me.
With a sigh, I fall backwards on to the bed, still staring at the blade in my hand. It’s very pretty, nicer than every piece of jewelry I own. I imagine sinking it into Rafaelle’s neck. I imagine all the blood and it makes me feel sick.
I can’t do that to him. Rafaelle would have never given the knife to me if he thought I could hurt him. And he’s right. I don’t want to hurt him. Not even a little bit.
Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a terrible person though.
I need to get out of here. Rafaelle might not want to hurt me and I may be getting fed and clothed and treated decently, but a gilded cage is still a cage. And out of the four walls of this house, the world is still moving.
This is my fourth day here. I can’t even begin to imagine how my mother must be feeling. What she’s thinking. I just hope she doesn’t come looking for me. The last thing I need is her in this city. Especially because she won’t have a choice but to bring Mila with her.
My mind keeps drifting back to the reason I’m here. The deal with my father. I have no clue what sort of person Ignacio Navarro is. But it seems to me that if he does agree to trade me, I’ll be moving from one lion’s den to another.
There’s no ending to this that benefits me. I have to figure out a way to escape but I’m out of options. This house is guarded like a fortress. There are guards at every entrance and cameras in the hallways. It would be impossible for me to sneak out. And even if I did, I have no idea how to make it back to the city. There’s nothing and no one but empty land for miles.
A knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts. For a brief second, hope fills me at the thought of it being Rafaelle but it’s snuffed out almost immediately. He definitely doesn’t knock. I call for whoever it is to come in while I sit up on the bed.
It’s the butler. I think his name is Ira, not that he told me himself. He’s every quiet, poised to do his job and nothing else, all broody with a blank expression.
“Would you like to have dinner in your bedroom, Miss Zaccari?” he questions.
“Sure,” I reply. “Is Rafaelle not back yet?”
I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning at breakfast when he suddenly turned into the Grinch. He burns hot and cold so often, it’s starting to give me whiplash. One second, he’s kind and charming and I get to see past all the evil and darkness. The next he’s cold and dismissive. I don’t know what to do with him.
He shakes his head, “Not yet, ma’am. But I was asked to remind you that you can leave your room and traipse the grounds, so you don’t go crazy from staring at the same four walls.”
I make a face, “Tell him to mind his own business and I’ll do as I wish.”
He inclines his head downward and is about to leave when I suddenly remember something.
“Wait, you said I could go anywhere in the house, right?”
“Of course.”
“Even downstairs?”
