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“Can I keep this?” I ask Nelia as she’s packing up to leave. I’ll give it to Valentina when I tell her about the wedding. I don’t want her to think I kept it from her, but I also don’t want her to know that I was forced into the marriage. I haven’t settled on how I’m going to approach it with her.
“Of course. I was planning on keeping a few aside for you. The day goes so quickly”—she snaps her fingers—“and it’s gone. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
At the door, I place a kiss on each cheek before pulling her in for a warm hug. “In case it gets too crazy on Saturday and I forget, I want to say thank you for everything. You’ve been wonderful.” She has been.In addition to pulling this off in little more than two weeks’ time, Nelia knows that marriages like mine and Antonio’s are arranged for convenience—and not the bride’s. She’s been incredibly supportive without ever mentioning a word about it.
“You’ve been a delight to work with. Saturday is going to be perfect. I promise.”
It’s almost nine, and after I say goodbye, I go up to my suite to shower.
Paula is coming out of the bedroom when I arrive. Our relationship is almost back to normal after my escape. I apologized for pulling her into the ruse, and at first she seemed a little nervous around me, but things are better. Her face lit up when I invited her to accompany me to the church the morning of the wedding. She agreed immediately.
“Paula, it’s late. You don’t have to turn down the bed every night, especially on nights like this when it starts to get late. I’m not helpless.”
She smiles. “I left something on your bed. It’s fromSenhorAntonio.”
God help me.
“It’s a wedding gift,” she adds with a small giggle.
It’s so charming that I laugh too. “Thank you, and good night.”
“Good night,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
A gift from Antonio?That could mean anything. He’s a complicated man.
I stop in the bedroom doorway, gaping at the leather case on the bed. It’s similar to the one he left in my closet, perhaps slightly larger. The one with thetoys.
Maybe he’s not so complicated.
This case also has a gold lock, but unlike last time, the key is in the lock.
When I see him, I’m going to murder him with my bare hands for giving this to the staff to deliver.
I’m tempted to toss it out the window. But I’m also curious. In truth, the toys have been—amazing.
I sit on the bed and stare at the case for several minutes.Just open it. You know you want to see what’s inside.
When my curiosity doesn’t subside, I turn the tiny key. I hesitate before lifting the lid, because each time he gives me something, I’m newly reminded that this is a sham marriage, and our vows will be sealed not with love, but with kinky sex. It hurts my soul every time.
I glance at my engagement ring.Now that the word is out about our engagement, everyone will expect you to have a ring. That ring comes with a promise to take care of you and keep you safe, at any cost.
I sigh and pull back the lid.
Time disappears as I stare into the case, taking it all in, one section at a time.
When I can breathe again, I lift a charm bracelet off the velvet lining. It was my mother’s. Each charm represents something significant in my life.“It doesn’t matter where I am. When I look at my wrist, all I can think about is you.”I hold it for several minutes before putting it back. My fingertips gently caress the small gold cross my parents gave me on the day of my First Communion. I was so proud that day.
I can’t take my eyes off the case. Every piece of jewelry,every single one, mine and my mother’s, that I sold to survive, is in this case.
The tears fall in a deluge.
I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m thrilled to have the jewelry back, especially my mother’s pieces. But I’m also stunned. It’s as though the boat has capsized, and I’m adrift in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by a dense fog.
My emotions are twisted, tied in knots so tight they’ll never be disentangled. I don’t know what to feel. Or even how I should feel. I’m a mess, and I can’t seem to find my out.
I hate myself for not hating him. That’s the bottom line. The one I’ve been loath to admit. I hate that he controls my mother’s vineyards. I hate that he’s forcing me to marry him. And more than anything, I hate that he’s separated me from Isabel and Valentina. But I don’t hate him.And I never have.
The light on my phone screen catches my eye. It’s a text from Nelia, something about flowers.
