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“Bianca, why must you fight me at every turn?”
I spear the tomato. “I’m not fighting with you.”
“I know you eat shrimp.”
“I don’t.”
“You had a shrimp hors d’oeuvre at the party.”
I drop my fork. “Fine, yes, I love shrimp scampi. I wish you’d bring back the scampi because it smelled so good, and I’m starving.”
Costi’s eyes glow with amusement. “Bring the scampi back,” he says to the waiter.
Within seconds, the delicious scent of shrimp scampi re-enters the room.
Costi: 1, Bianca: 0.
It upsets me that I've lost this round, but I guess Costi knows a hungry woman will tell the truth about what she wants to eat.
“Tell me about Gino.”
“Not much to tell,” I say as I stab a piece of shrimp with my fork and bring it to my lips.
“Your father trusts him?”
“He does,” I answer as soon as I’m done chewing. This is delicious. I can’t tell him that, though. I take another bite and Costi watches my mouth like a hawk.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my shrimp scampi.”
“Yours? I’m sure you didn’t cook this.”
He swirls a noodle against his spoon. “Ah, but it is my recipe.” He tosses the pasta into his mouth and chews slowly. Once he’s done, his eyes blaze at me. “Tell me why your father trusts him.”
I shrug. “Because he trusts Gino’s dad, I guess. Why?”
Costi watches me eat for a moment before he breaks a fluffy roll in half, using it to sop up a little of the juice on his plate. “Just wondering why you’re still going along with this arranged marriage.”
“What makes you think we don’t love each other and want to marry for that reason alone?”
Constantine sets his fork on his plate, raising a brow. “He’s not your type.”
“How would you know? You don’t even know him. You don’t know me either. Maybe over the years we fell in love.”
“I know he can’t give you what you need.”
“And you think you can?” My chest rises and falls rapidly with each ragged breath.
Costi takes a moment to calm his breathing as well. “I never said I could. In fact, I know I can’t.”
“Well, of course not. Your idea of romance is kidnapping.”
He smiles, and it nearly knocks me off my chair. “Exactly. Now tell me about the business.”
“Why? So you can ruin it?”
For the next few minutes, we eat in silence, and the sound is deafening. Each scrape of the silverware against the plates is ten times louder when there’s no noise to lessen it.
It’s hard to breathe with Costi staring at me like a lion preying on a lamb. I set my fork down, but he shakes his head, obviously wanting me to eat more.
“When are you giving me over to Bishop?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Whenever I’m ready.”
I roll my eyes. Whatever that means. I’m over his silly answers. “You should just throw me overboard now because that’s obviously what Bishop has planned for me.”
Costi laughs, only there’s no humor there. “He doesn’t plan to kill any of you ladies.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No, he plans to sell all four of you to the highest bidder.”
Dinner ended in a rush. As soon as Costi told me what Bishop had planned for the other three daughters and myself, I excused myself from the table and came back to my cabin. I’ve been here for hours, wanting nothing more than to toss myself into the ocean so I don’t have to live a life of being enslaved to a madman who buys women for his own amusement.
I hear footsteps in the corridor and I sit up on the bed, drying my eyes as best I can with the edge of the blanket. I won’t let him see me cry.
I remember the first time Costi saw me cry. I was about eight years old, and my mother had died. I was full of little girl worries about who would take care of me. Who would bandage my wounds and read me books and get rid of the scary beasts in the closet? Who would hug me and love me as only she could? Costi took me to our special spot on the beach and held me as I cried.
He didn’t care that my tears soaked straight through his t-shirt. Most boys would probably try to get a girl to stop crying on their shoulder. Most boys would rather play football in the yard than deal with a sobbing, frightened kid.
But not Costi. Nope. He stroked my back and whispered everything would be ok.
He held me. He tried to cheer me up when he felt I needed it. He let me cry when I needed that. And he let me throw and smash things when he felt I needed that.
I never hid my feelings from him, because he never made me feel I should. But now, here on his ship, I won’t let him know my true feelings.
