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ALICIA
Something’s up.
I feel it in the air, the way something has changed. It’s not so much in anything specific Enzo says or does. It’s more the general feeling. He’s paying more attention to me today than he normally does, but not in an angry,you’re my prisoner, so you have to do as I saykind of way. I got enough of that before to recognize it.
No, now it’s like he’s actually paying attention to me as a person, ever since yesterday, with that disastrous meeting with his grandfather. It seemed like he really cared that I was upset after all was said and done. And I’m sure more than a little bit of that has to do with the fact that this is his life, too. He’s finally starting to clue in to the fact that we’re in this together. I’m just as trapped as he is, and neither of us has to like it.
After dinner—a meal we shared together in the kitchen after he asked what kind of food I would like to order in—he makes a strange suggestion. “Why don’t you go up and take a shower? I have a little surprise for you.”
I sit and wait for the punchline, but there isn’t one. “Like, a good surprise?”
He snorts, then nods. “I think so.”
“You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?”
He lifts a shoulder, and his mouth tugs up at the corner. “The sooner you get in the shower, the sooner you’ll find out what it is. It’s really up to you.”
Yes, something is definitely up. He’s almost cheerful and upbeat. In other words, the exact opposite of who he’s been from the beginning of this mess. What’s he going to do? Take me to his grandfather’s, so I can go through an invasive physical exam? Or maybe this is some sick, twisted lead-up to me finding out they know I’ve been lying this whole time. I’ve seenThe Godfather. I know how things like this work.
As I climb the stairs because I don’t have a choice, I can’t shake the memory of Michael’s traitorous brother-in-law thinking he’s on his way to the airport when really, someone’s lying in wait for him in the car. And up until the very last moment, everyone lied to his face to make him think he was safe.
No, Enzo wouldn’t do that to me. Not that I have any ideas about him caring. I’m not that far gone. But he’s got a lot riding on this marriage arrangement, too. I don’t doubt his grandfather gave him pretty much the same ultimatum he gave me. This twisted obsession with making sure we have a baby. It’s so gross.
I try to remind myself as I’m washing up that it’s in Enzo’s best interests to protect me now. It helps me shake off the worst of my apprehension.
Not all of it. I’m still trembling and hesitant once I finish drying off, stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around me. My bedroom door is open, the light on. My feet are like lead as I drag myself down the hall, forcing myself to face whatever is coming.
“There you are. That was fast, actually. I just finished laying these things out for you.” He sweeps an arm over the bed, gesturing to an outfit that wasn’t there before I got in the shower.
It’s not the outfit that catches my attention and holds it. It’s him. In the time it took me to shower, he changed into a sexy black suit with a white shirt, with the collar unbuttoned to reveal a hint of his broad, tanned chest. He looks like a million bucks, and it’s enough to take my breath away at first.
I realize he’s staring at me, waiting for me to say something while I wrestle with my hormones. “What’s this all about?” I finally murmur, prying my eyes from him so I can check out what he left for me.
“I was thinking. Here we are, on the verge of getting married, but we’ve never even gone on a date. That doesn’t seem right, does it?”
That doesn’t seem right? Out of everything that’s happened since he discovered me in that warehouse, what’s bothering him is the fact that we’ve never been on a date before we were forced into marriage?
“Wow, this is really nice.” I run the backs of my fingers along the blood-red satin dress. It’s stunning, really. I wonder how he got his hands on it—it’s not one of the things he bought me when we went shopping.
“Go ahead, get yourself ready.” He’s out of the room before I can think to ask exactly where we’re going. I doubt it would matter if I asked, anyway. It’s not like I have any say in this.
Besides, it might not be so bad. A night out means a night away from the house, at least. And I’m sure that once he’s out in public around other people and has to behave himself, he could probably be pretty charming.
And if we are relating to each other one-on-one, just two people stuck in an impossible situation, he might feel a little more sympathy for me. It can’t hurt to try to win him over a little, can it?
Something tells me I’m going to win him over, at least when it comes to how I look. The dress fits like a glove like it was made just for me. It hugs my curves, coming to a stop an inch above my knee and low cut enough that my boobs look like they want to spill out of it. But the dress is constructed well enough that it’s only an illusion. I can’t help but like what I see when I check myself out in the full-length bathroom mirror once I’ve finished applying some of the makeup I snagged during our shopping trip. I’m glad I thought about that. No girl can get married without at least a little bit of makeup, I told him. Now I don’t have to go out barefaced, feeling sloppy.
Even as I offer myself a tiny smile in the mirror once I’m finished checking myself out, something keeps tugging at my heart, making it impossible to feel confident. I finally realize what it is while slipping on a pair of black heels: the last time I got dressed up like this, I was getting ready to go to the warehouse.
A chill runs through me, finally settling in my stomach in the form of a block of ice. At least, that’s what it feels like. How is it possible my life has changed so much in such a short amount of time? Will I ever be able to go back to the way it used to be? I’m not sure how I could. I’m a different person now; at least, that’s how it feels. I’ve been through situations I never imagined before. I’m not the Alicia I used to be, and I never will be again. It’s enough to make frustrated tears threaten to well up in my eyes, but I’m determined to blink them back. Not only because I don’t want to give in to despair—I’m afraid I’d never find my way out—but I just finished my makeup and don’t want to keep Enzo waiting. If he’s in a good mood, he’s not being cruel and abusive.
Once I’m satisfied, I take the stairs slowly, careful in my new stilettos. He’s waiting in the living room, sipping a glass of whiskey while checking something on his phone. The sound of my footfalls on the stairs makes him glance up, distracted, before he does a complete double take. His mouth falls open slightly, and his eyes follow my every move.
In other words, I think I’m making a good impression.
“How do I look?” I hold my arms out to the sides and do a slow turn. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t breathed since he caught sight of me.
“You look… fucking hot.”
