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I shake my head, turning toward the window and gazing out at the evening. There’s a reason I don’t spend much time in this room anymore, and it has nothing to do with the fact that life tends to revolve around business conducted from my study.
Right now, however, I’m feeling just dangerously morose enough to torture myself by stepping up to the tall window and gazing out over the grounds. Most notably, the family graveyard which commands roughly an acre of land a few hundred yards from where I stand.
And the three headstones which stand out from the other, weathered slabs of marble. Three stones much newer than the others. Beneath one of those stones lies the body of a man who didn’t expect to step down for years. Decades, even. Now I stand in his place.
On days like this, I fucking hate it. I hate him for getting himself killed.
Along with the women buried on either side of him.
Chapter Six - Delilah
Guest suite? This is bigger than anywhere I’ve ever lived. It’s even bigger than Deanna’s apartment, which is saying something. I tried to talk her out of signing for it. I told her she didn’t need all that room. Even then, I couldn’t help but tell her what to do.
Even then, she refused to listen.
Once again, I’m stuck in the middle of Deanna’s mess, though this time it isn’t her fault. I mean, I have a hard time ever thinking of anything as her fault. That’s the thing about having a history with someone. I was there for every beating. Every night we spent fighting to fall asleep so we wouldn’t have to suffer through hunger pangs.
Every night we locked the bedroom door and pushed our dresser in front of it to keep another handsy boyfriend of Mom’s from getting in.
So I tend to excuse her mistakes. But this time it isn’t her fault. She’s hardly the only girl who ever stuck around an abusive loser for too long. That doesn’t mean she deserves to be sold. Nobody deserves this.
Still, the gilded cage is hella gilded. I whistle softly on stepping into the ensuite bathroom. Is it wrong that I can’t wait to soak in the tub until my skin prunes? I might as well get a little something out of this. And I’ve always done my best thinking in the tub.
First, I check out the rest of the suite. The bedroom is enormous and filled with sunlight. The walls are paneled in dark wood—actual wood, not the cheap, fake paneling I grew up with. That old apartment was outdated even by our standards. The king-size bed is covered in shades of white and cream that match the striped curtains and throw rugs and a silk-covered chair in one corner. Somebody decorated this room with care.
No way was it Luca. He walks around this place like a kid wearing clothes he borrowed from his dad. He can pretend all he wants, but he doesn’t fit. Maybe it’s his age. I have a hard time taking him seriously, knowing he can’t be more than thirty years old.
And that’s a mistake. I can’t underestimate him. I can’t even think of him as a man, no matter how hot he is. He’s a fucking monster who treats women like literal property to be bought and sold. I’m sure that’s not even the half of it.
I run a hand over the blanket. It’s so soft, just like the pillows. Now I’m looking forward to going to sleep, too.
Is he going to let me sleep in this room? Or will I have to sleep with him? Fear grips my empty stomach and twists it until I almost have to double over. What does he want from me? How far will I have to go? For how long?
No. Don’t do this. I close my eyes tight and breathe deep, forcing my lungs to hold all they can before slowly exhaling. I’ve got to stay in the moment. One step at a time. Looking too far ahead won’t do anything but drive me crazy. I need to be sharp if I’m going to find a way out of this.
Which means getting all the rest I can if I want my brain to work right. A bath would be nice, come to think of it. I need to feel more like myself in the middle of this nightmare.
There are towels stacked on a stool next to the tub, and bottles of soap and shampoo on the shelves. It takes a second to figure out how to get the water temperature right, but once I do I add a capful of bubble bath.
When it comes time to take my clothes off, though, I freeze. This is the last piece of me, the clothes I’m wearing. “Stupid,” I whisper. I’m a little too old for superstition, and this is not the time to give in to it. That doesn’t make peeling off my t-shirt any easier. I do it all at once, fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
Then I step into the tub. The water is a few degrees short of scalding, just the way I like it. Steam envelops me as I lower myself into the scented bubbles, and a long sigh eases its way out of my chest when I settle in.
I can handle this. I can handle anything. I’ve always been the strong one. I have to keep being strong, is all. No big deal. And if I need to have sex with Luca and do whatever it is that gets him off… I could do worse. It might even be fun.
A tear rolls down my cheek. I can lie to myself all I want, but that’s all it is. Lies. Coping. My whole life, I’ve coped. Sure, my apartment is crappy, but it’s a roof over my head. Sure, I survive on Ramen and cereal and frozen waffles, but some people don’t have food at all. Like when we were first left alone to fend for ourselves.
Deanna has more than frozen waffles at my place. Things have improved since I first started living on my own. I hope she manages to keep her head down and avoid being noticed. Already, not being able to reach out kills me. Why the hell did I leave everything in her living room? I didn’t even bring my goddamn phone.
Another tear escapes, but I knuckle it away before it starts down my cheek. He would’ve taken my phone away, obviously. If I’d brought my purse, that errand boy of Luca’s would’ve snatched it as soon as he got me in the car. I was so stupid, letting him get that close. I’m supposed to be smarter than that. Why did I stop? Why didn’t I run?
“Stupid,” I whisper for a second time. He obviously knew where Deanna lives. If he hadn’t caught up to me on the sidewalk, he would’ve gone up to her apartment and taken her. This is the best way the situation could’ve turned out. I need to believe that.
Like I need to believe this is going to end well. And soon.
All I have to do is figure out how.
First thing’s first: getting ready for dinner—and for whatever Luca has planned for me.
