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Public betrayals don’t warrant private punishments.“Were people watching?”
He shifts on the bed. “The punishment was heard by anyone in the vicinity. Including your screams. But no one saw anything,” he adds quietly.
“They heard us having sex,” I mutter under my breath, trying to remember what anyone might have overheard.
“No.No one heard us having sex. I had the area cleared before we had sex.” He reaches for my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles. “The sex had nothing to do with the punishment.”
I nod, cringing inside as I remember more and more about the sex. It might be easier to digest if he said it was punishment, but I know it wasn’t.
I remember wanting him inside me.No.That’s much too mild to describe what I was feeling. I wasdesperateto have him fuck me.Desperatefor release. I was out of my mind with need, and I would have done anything to make it happen. The truth sits painfully in my chest, elbow to elbow with the unbridled shame.
He doesn’t say anything. He sits quietly, his hip against my thigh, letting the memories tumble back.
“Did you use a condom?” I ask, staring at light peeking through the shutters so that I don’t have to look at him.
“You’re on birth control,” he replies, fingering the tiny insert under my skin.
“That’s not the only reason to use a condom. I can’t believe you would take the risk. And how do you know I’m on birth control?” I ask, glaring at him.
“I have your medical records. In case of an emergency.”
“How?”
“Medical records aren’t difficult to access.” He pauses. “I’m clean, and I’m very careful about using protection. I don’t intend on using a condom when having sex with my wife. But you need to know, I’d never take that kind of risk with you.Ever.I might be a monster, but I’m not that kind of monster.”
I don’t know if it’s true that he would never risk my health, but I don’t respond. As my memory starts to slowly return, I have so many questions. I don’t want to talk about condoms anymore.
“How did this get here?” I ask, tugging on the nightgown I’m wearing. It was in my closet at the house a few days ago. I’m positive.
“I sent someone over to the house to pick up a few things for you. Paula packed a bag. After you ran, her weekend off was canceled.”
My stomach churns. I gave her the weekend off so that she wouldn’t be there when they found me missing. I thought it would be easier on her.
“Alma’s here,” Antonio says. “Do you remember my mother’s cook?”
Yes, I remember Alma. She would sneak me extra treats whenever we visited the Huntsmans. “The one who makes the mouthwatering caramels?”
He smiles. “The very same. She’ll make you breakfast, and then you can have a shower, and when you’re ready, someone will drive you back to the valley.”
Victor and Paula. I betrayed them too. Especially Paula.
“I need to go, but there are a couple things I want to talk to you about.”
Although I don’t have a clue about what he’s going to say, my stomach clenches.
“First, the race is Saturday, and the ball is on Saturday night.”
The race and a grand party take place every year in Porto, on a Saturday around the time the camellias are at peak bloom. On Sunday, the vines are blessed, and everyone prays for an abundant harvest. “It’s Camellia Weekend?”
He nods. “You’ll sit in my box during the race. I’ll send someone over to make sure you have the appropriate clothing. Buy what you want. It won’t come out of the money you send Isabel. Be extravagant. It’s your reintroduction into the world you walked away from six years ago.”
The last time I attended the race, my mother was alive. I’ve never been to the ball. Although when I was a little girl, my parents always went. My mother promised that one day I would go too. Sadness unfurls inside my chest every time I think about my mother. Time hasn’t made it any easier.
“While the stylist is there,” Antonio adds, “talk to her about a wedding dress. Now that more people know you’re here, I don’t want to wait to get married.”
A lump forms in my throat, making it harder to breathe.
“When is the wedding?”
