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I paint the picture I know she’s longing for but saying it out loud is like a stab to my heart. A sense of jealousy takes hold. I don’t want him to be with any other woman.
Oriana’s calculating eyes watch me intently. I can almost hear the wheels turning in her brain.
Despite my discomfort, I carry on, “You have a lot more in common with Gualtiero than I do. You understand and accept his lifestyle far better than I ever could.”
Oriana tries very hard to keep her mask in place, but it’s slipping. Her eyes tell the story. She wants this. She wants me out of the way. I watch her fingers clench and unclench, her eyes turning to slits as she pierces me with her gaze.
She’s tempted, but I see the moment the shutters come down, and she’s come to a decision. One I won’t like.
“If you’re hoping I will help you escape, you’re mistaken. He’s my don, and I swore my allegiance to him. I won’t betray him,” Oriana says through clenched teeth.
“Given the name on your credit card, your future is already set in stone. So you better make a good goddam wife for him because you’re not escaping on my watch,” she tells me while poking her index finger into my chest. With that, she turns on her heels and storms away.
Shit. That didn’t go to plan… not that I had a plan to enlist Oriana’s help in the first place. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Another example of my spontaneity leading me nowhere.
Jeez, Ella. Think before you act!
When will I learn that planning is the key to getting me out of this?!
Now she’s probably running to Gualtiero, telling him all about my feeble attempt to get her to help me. He’ll see how trustworthy she is, and I’ll be stuck with her even more.
Fuck!
I groan in frustration. Why can’t something go my way?!
But I can’t really say I’m surprised. It was a long shot. But I had really hoped her hate for me would sway her.
Monday, two weeks ago, I learned who put me through such terror, and I hated him for it.
Since then, the fine line between hate and love is blurring slowly, fading like the darkness at sunrise, giving way to the first colors of daylight.
Things are quite different today.
For starters, we’re in Rome. The change of scenery has made a world of difference to my mood. I’ve been getting antsy at the Sicily compound, feeling bored and out of place, reminded daily of who he is and what he’s done.
We arrived here on Saturday after he dragged me to a helicopter without notice. We’ve taken up residence in Mateo’s beautiful and, of course, highly secured villa on the outskirts of the city.
The past two days have been wonderful. Whenever possible, Gualtiero took me sightseeing, and because he’s a walking history book, he could tell me all the facts of wherever we visited and lots of entertaining tidbits as well. He’s, without doubt, the best tour-guide a girl could wish for.
Island Tiero was back, and we laughed together, even held hands, and flirted. It reminded me of our good days… minus the sex. And that’s getting near impossible to resist.
I stopped lying to myself that I don’t want him because I do… a lot.
But whenever I consider crossing that line again, something is holding me back.
If I go down that path, it’d be like waving my capitulation flag, my agreement to be his eternal consort in this criminal world of his. And I can’t do that.
I haven’t given up hope that I’ll find a way out, but in the last few days, I haven’t tried very hard to spot that loophole, and it irks me.
I’m annoyed that I’m getting used to this new life of mine with all its perks and limitations. I mustn’t lose sight of pursuing my freedom!
This evening, Tiero is dragging me to a nightclub where he’s set to meet with a business partner.
I hate nightclubs and begged to stay at the mansion, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it. I had to listen to his standard decree of“You go where I go.”
Our procession of cars comes to a stop in a back alley. Everything is eerily dark and quiet. Tiero takes my hand and plants an absent-minded kiss on top of it. He seems slightly on edge.
“No talking to strangers, princess,” he says, his gaze zeroing in on me. “Do you understand me?”
