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Falynn

PLAYLIST: ? SORRY - BEYONCÉ ?

Giovanni doesn’t stay long.He leaves after speaking with Carlotta and some of the members on the security team. I do as he says.

At first.

I rest. I clean myself up, the cold shower I take shocking any tipsiness out of me.

My footsteps are cautious as I pad from the bathroom in a robe, hair dripping wet. Carlotta hasn’t come sniffing around yet. She will as soon as dinner’s ready. I rush to the closet and snatch my sexiest cocktail dress I find off its rack. In my other hand I clutch my phone, scrolling for the first name that makes sense on my contact list.

Melissa Cicero.One of the only wives I can tolerate. The only one close enough to my age. It rings a couple times before she answers.

“Falynn, how are you holding up, hun?” she asks. Voices sound in the background. If I had to guess, it’s Paul and some other guys guzzling drinks and smoking cigars after dinner. She must have walked out of the room, because a couple seconds later, the voices fade. “I’m sorry about the crap Rochelle pulled earlier. It was disrespectful as hell.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Paul’s got a couple guys over. You and Giovanni are welcome—”

“Giovanni’s not here,” I interrupt detachedly. “I want to go out for drinks. Meet me at the Ophelia Lounge in an hour?”

Melissa pauses. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Come out and have a drink with me. Us girls never do anything for ourselves.”

That convinces her. She hesitates only a second longer before she agrees, claiming she’ll have to mention it to Paul first. I hang up and focus on getting ready. Time’s limited, so I don’t do much—I slip on the short scrap of fabric and fix my hair, blow-drying it and pushing it up into a curly, messy topknot. My makeup is minimal. Just some eyeliner, some light powder and red lips.

A couple of times I second-guess myself. I almost plod over to the bed and dig myself under the covers like I have so often before in recent years. Sleep away the never-ending numbness and fatigue.

It’s how Carlotta began covering for me in the first place; moments she’d find me so despondent, I was crying without even knowing it. I was more doll than woman, just an empty shell that would lie for hours in a fog. I’ve learned how to fight through it in time, adjust to the medications, though their toll grows in other ways.

Like now.

I need to do something of my own accord. I need to feel like my own person again. I need to have some semblance of autonomy, even if it’ll be absolute hell to pay later.

Even if I don’t know what Giovanni will do when he discovers I’ve disobeyed him this time. Only hours after he expressly forbade me from ever doing so again. I won’t let him—or anyone—break me, though. King or not. I don’t care what he’ll do, or how he’ll react.

I don’t care about much anymore. Today’s events have done nothing but amplify this.

My sense of recklessnessshouldscare me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m screaming at myself to stop and try and get a grip. Behave myself. Follow the rules. Squash down any dissent.Be a good girl.

Then I look at the empty room and a shudder runs through me, drawing attention to the matching emptiness inside me. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. I used to be so full of…something. Life, maybe? Hope?

Giovanni once called it a shine. It went out years ago. Since then, things have only dimmed. The grim truth is that the shine is never coming back. It’s dead.

I work fast, tugging the drapes off their rods and tying them together into knots. I use our heavy, Italian-designed king-sized bed as my anchor, wrapping my last drape around one of its legs. I’m light enough that it should hold when I lower myself down.

That’s the easy part. The hard part is making it off of the estate sight unseen. I’ve timed it so that I’m leaving at the same time the security team switches shifts. Giovanni’s security works in three rotations: morning into afternoon, afternoon into night, night into morning.

As the middle shift swaps out, I land like a cat in the shadows, carefully avoiding the camera system. It’s damn near impossible, sticking to the edges to pass under the cameras’ range, avoiding the sentry points where the guards pass through. At one point, I worry I’ve taken too long. Surely Carlotta’s come up to our bedroom to check on me. She’ll discover I’m missing any second now…

I make it close enough to the gate, barefoot and cautious with my heels and clutch in hand. A delivery van comes through to drop off the fresh produce for tomorrow’s menu. I wait until they’re passing back through the gate and then sprint with the van, using it to shield me. The second I make it past the gate, I hurry out of sight again and hide near the tall, neat hedges that outline the estate.

My first real breath feels like a new life altogether. My first real breath of fresh air in years. No guards. No caretaker. No Giovanni around to monitor and watch over me.

Freedomat last.

Melissa is waiting for me at the Ophelia Lounge when I enter. She sticks her arm up in the air where she sits by the bar.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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