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2
LUCIA
My bedroom looks foreign to me. It’s only been a few months since I last saw it, and it hasn’t changed at all, but I still don’t know what to do with the idea of having my own, private space once more.
Or as private as it can be, in my father’s house. I don’t have to worry about cameras or men sneaking in during the night to have their way with me, at least, but I know that my father doesn’t care about me either.
“Is there anything I can get you?” Vanessa asks, hovering near the entrance. “Food, drinks… anything?”
Vanessa doesn’t look changed either. Still taller than me, despite being two years younger, still wearing clothes I used to labelconservative. She has her hair pulled back into a ponytail. It’s a shade lighter than mine, and I used to envy that color.
“No, I… I just ate,” I say. I can’t believe my voice is holding steady. I’d been in tears when I’d made the call to her, but I couldn’t let anybody at the house see me crying. “I just want a shower.”
“Yeah, of course.” Vanessa pauses, then adds, “It’s not too late. Dad’s still out. Mom took her sleeping pills an hour ago. I didn’t tell anybody I was going to get you.”
Even the mention of sleeping pills makes me cringe, though I do my best to hide it. I should be more concerned about when Daddy’s going to get home, or that some of the men are going to find out I’m here before I have a chance to cover my tracks, but I’m just… tired.
All I want to do is shower and sleep and give myself time to adjust to the fact that I really am free again.
For now.
“Where would I go, Nessa?” I ask, not even bothering to hide the despondence in my voice. “Where would be safe? At least Daddy can keep Victor from getting to me.”
“Yeah, but… Pavone,” Vanessa says, biting her bottom lip as she looks at me. She looks so young despite her elegance in that moment, so concerned about me when she has so many other things to worry about.
“Maybe Pavone doesn’t want me anymore,” I say with fake cheer. “I’m used goods now, or something. I hear there were a lot of videos of me.”
Vanessa doesn’t smile. “He still wants you, Lucia. He’s been visiting almost every day, breathing down Dad’s neck. It’s only lucky…”
She trails off, and I wait for her to finish that sentence. I get the sense she wants me to prompt her, but I don’t want to play those kinds of games right now.
Finally, she says, “Don’t tell them you tried to run, okay? It’s all Victor Corvi’s fault. Never mind what Dad would do, but Pavone terrifies me.”
“They have to already know,” I tell her, a little surprised that they might think Victor’s at fault to begin with. “I booked flights, train tickets… everything. Or…” I realize what it could’ve looked like. “Or they think Saint made those purchases to try to hide their tracks.”
“Saint?”
I don’t know why I feel protective of him, but I shake my head. “Just… someone. He’s good with computer stuff. They might think he tried to set me up to look like I ran so they could snatch me. I guess it’s better that they think that, huh?”
Vanessa huffs quietly. “Lucia… they didn’t even notice. You were out for the night, which isn’t out of character for you, and the next day the ransom note arrived.”
It feels strange, to think that they never even suspected I’d run—or tried to. All the setup I’d done had been pointless, and I felt a little silly thinking of all the different safeguards I’d put into place. I guess they hadn’t had a reason to look into my accounts or try to figure out when I’d left.
I don’t know why it upsets me. I guess it’s that they all think I’m content to do my duty and be faithful to the Bellini name, and no one ever pauses to consider I might have a mind of my own. Only Vanessa knows the things I do to defy them.
“I think I’ll have that shower now,” I say, taking a step toward the door leading to the en-suite. “I’m exhausted.”
“Of course. You know where to find me,” Vanessa says. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, sis.”
She leaves, closing the bedroom door behind her. I feel a sudden urge to call her back, to beg her not to leave me alone, but I swallow the words. I need to be able to handle myself. I need to pull my shit together, because it’s not actually going to get much better from here on out.
I grab a long-sleeved shirt and long sweats and take them to the bathroom with me. I make sure to lock both of the doors—the one leading to my room, and the one leading to Vanessa’s—before I start the shower.
This is novel, too. Getting to shower on my own, without Saint or Angelo pawing at me. Not having to worry about Victor opening the door and staring at me while I wash. Knowing I get to put on warm clothes once I’m done.
I’d showered that morning, hadn’t I? In preparation for the “date.” I stare up at the shower spray and try to bury the guilt that wells up inside me. I have nothing to feel guilty about, I remind myself. Angelo and Saint are monsters, just as complicit in everything Victor does. Worse, sometimes.
I can picture Saint’s confused expression following my disappearance. I can imagine just how angry Angelo must be.
