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Cristiano’s invitation rang through my mind. They had frustrated me then, but now, they were a godsend. “You can stay here as long as you want,” I said.
“Here?” she asked. “But Cristiano—”
“Would love to have you. Believe me, he’ll be more supportive than you know. We have so much room.”
We? I didn’t blame her for looking confused. I was as well. This life had been forced upon me. I’d come into it kicking and screaming. And now, not even two weeks later, I was inviting her into it? Referring to Cristiano and myself as we?
There may have been a world full of people with more freedom than me, but that didn’t mean they were safer. Whether or not I wanted to be here, it hit me just how much worse off I could be.
“It’s not . . .”
She waited for me to continue. “What?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” I admitted and teased, “but if you tell Cristiano that, I will toss you in the deep end of the pool.”
“I’m too scared to tell him anything.” She fidgeted with the strap of her suit. “Are you just saying that so I won’t worry about you?”
Ever since my arrival, I’d made the worst of my situation. Had I even tried to consider it as anything else? There had been more surprises than anything. I’d never imagined such a beautiful cage, eating the finest foods and sleeping in Egyptian cotton next to a man who made my body feel things I hadn’t thought possible—and we hadn’t even slept together. That was a surprise—the heady feeling of getting to my knees to comfort a man as stoic as Cristiano and actually enjoying being dominated by him . . . and dominating him.
“You don’t have to tell me what he’s done to you,” she continued, “but I’m here if you want to talk about it. Nessa went through something like this.”
“Nessa?” I asked. “Your half-sister? I didn’t know that.”
“A guy she trusted, he . . . anyway, I’ve talked to her about it.” Her posture lifted. “I mean, obviously it’s not even close to what Cristiano has put you through—”
“He hasn’t,” I said, looking away. My gaze caught on the rings weighing down my hand. They were collars. Glittering splendors in the sunlight . . . and possibly even weapons.
“Hasn’t what?” she prompted.
I sighed, turning back to her. “We haven’t had sex.”
Her jaw dropped nearly into the water. “How is that possible? Is he gay?”
I couldn’t help laughing. I’d have given anything to see Cristiano’s face if he’d heard that. “He’s definitely not.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s . . . vocal about the things he wants to do. And we’ve, you know. . . done a little.” God, I wasn’t that shy about these things—I’d talked a lot with my friends in California. But it was Cristiano who made my cheeks heat. The wrongness of fooling around with him. Curiosity over what he’d do when he saw me next. The unsettling urge to call him tonight from our bed.
With my thumb, I spun the diamond on my ring finger. “The way he talks, it’s just . . . it’s filthy, and scary, and . . .”
Pilar waited. “Do you like it, Natalia?” she asked quietly. “Do you like him?”
“No,” I said, stopping the horrifying thought in its tracks. “God, no.”
“What if you did?” she asked. “It would make life here a lot easier.”
“That’s not a good reason to fall in love.”
“I don’t mean love. No, not at all. I mean, what if you find a way to . . .” She pulled her hair off her neck and fanned herself. “Never mind. It’s dumb. I’m not the one in this situation.”
“No, what?” I prompted. I hated when Pilar doubted herself, but if I was honest, I was more curious about what she had to say. I fought every day—against Cristiano, my situation, and sometimes even myself. To hear someone tell me I didn’t have to could alleviate some of my guilt. “What if I find a way to accept this?” I asked. “Is that what you mean?”
“Or at least not hate it. Only until you get out of here. Maybe you can compartmentalize his past and the horrible things he does to others. For self-preservation.”
“But he doesn’t force me, Pilar. And I don’t hate what he does to me. So I don’t know what to think. To see him as anything other than the man who stormed my wedding and ruined my life . . .”
It would change everything. But I didn’t want things to change. Cristiano had forced my hand in marriage—how could I ever forgive that? Especially while the reason behind my mother’s death remained uncertain. To form any kind of attachment to Cristiano would mean I’d only have to sever it later.
