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Did Tiero kidnap me?
No, no way. He wouldn’t do that.
I refuse to believe that the man I’ve spent the last week with, and who’s touched my heart and soul in a way no one else ever has, could do something so horrible.
It has to be someone else!
There has to be a different explanation.
Think, Ella. Think.
Mario, the cook from Tiero’s boat, knows what I like for breakfast. So does the rest of the crew. Perhaps it was Rocco who ratted me out to someone… he seemed to disappear into thin air, supporting that theory.
Or perhaps someone else watched me have breakfast since I arrived in Sicily. I ordered it at the hotel after all. They didn’t have parsnip, but maybe someone made a note? Yes, that has to be it! But why would they care?
I pace in front of the table, my head spinning as I try to analyze the few facts I’ve collected so far.
The longer I think about this, the more I wonder if the signs really do point to Gualtiero De Marco.
No, no, no.
I refuse to believe it was him.
My stomach churns at the thought of Tiero putting me through such an ordeal.
He wouldn’t do this to me.
I’m wrong thinking this, right?
He asked me twice to stay, and I insisted I had to go home. He never argued the point, though, but remained silent each time.
Did he hatch other plans? Plans like kidnapping? Keeping me here against my will?
But then, where is he?
Rome, of course. He’s got business there… I remember now.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I can’t have been so wrong about him.
Vague memories of his goodbye Sunday morning float back into my mind. I was too tired to pay attention. He said something in Italian.
Damn, I wish I spoke the language.
My stomach growls loudly. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday… that’s assuming it’s Monday, and I wasn’t unconscious for longer than a day. How can I find out?
I cease pacing and sit down. Picking up a fork, I eye the food with suspicion. What if it’s drugged and knocks me out again?
I put my nose over the omelet and sniff it carefully. Nothing smells unusual. In fact, even cold it smells so delicious my mouth waters. I have to take the risk. If I want to get out of this mess, I’ll need to keep up my strength.
After the first wary bite, half expecting my throat to close off or for my mouth to tingle, I devour the food. I’m hungrier than I thought. I sip the tea, and at last my body relaxes a notch.
When I’m finished, I sit back and rub my chin.
Now what?
Will I just wait and see what comes next? Or do I attempt to solve the puzzle of who’s behind this and why?
