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“There’s a car waiting out front,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. “They’re expecting you at the house.”
“Who isthey?”
“I’ll introduce you when we arrive,” he replies, evading any meaningful response.
I don’t waste another breath asking the bastard any more questions about who is expecting me. Although I can’t help but wonder what kind of people would be willing to hold me captive.
7
Daniela
Cristiano and the burly guard lead me to a black sedan pulled up in front of the building. It’s daylight now, but early. No one is around who might be willing to help me. Still, marching me out the front door demonstrates how confident they are that they can quash any problems if I cause a scene on the street.
Once I’m in the car, Cristiano nods at the guard on the sidewalk. “I’ve got it from here,” he informs him before getting into the front passenger seat.
The man behind the wheel is the cab driver who picked me up at the airport.Another setup.One thing after another.How could I have been so stupid? How?
I squeeze my eyes shut to prevent the tears that are threatening.
The effort Antonio put into getting me here is staggering. His power is formidable. I’m familiar with this kind of unchecked authority. My father had it—although maybe not to this degree.I’m not sure anymore.Regardless, even though I recognize the power, it’s unnerving to be the target of such a bold display.
The driver makes a right and then a quick left. We’re leaving the city.
“Cristiano will take you to our home in the valley.”Your home, not mine.
“Where are we going?” I ask from the backseat, although I suspect they’re taking me to Antonio’s family home.
“The valley,” Cristiano replies, as though the Douro Valley is a specific location, like a restaurant or a store, rather than a vast region where a majority of the vineyards are located, including Quinta Rosa do Vale. Although I doubt we’re going there.
“Cristiano, your obtuse responses try a woman’s patience. For all you know, I have a knife in my bag and I’ll stick it in your back when I tire of your evasiveness.”
His shoulders stiffen. “You boarded a plane in Boston and went through security with no issues. You landed, stopped in the ladies’ room, and then went directly into the cab we arranged, and to Moniz’s office.”
So much for not overwhelming me with how closely they’ve been monitoring.
He glances over his shoulder at me. “If we even suspected you were carrying a weapon, you wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere nearSenhorHuntsman. We’ve been ordered to keep you safe. But don’t do anything foolish, because no one will hesitate to protect Antonio—at whatever cost.”
It’s a clear warning:When it comes to protecting Antonio, we shoot to kill.I don’t doubt it.
When the car stops for a bus to pass, I try the door handle. It’s locked. Probably just as well. I doubt I can outrun the two men in the front seat, even with a head start. Besides, there’s a high price to pay for running. I’ve already been warned. Antonio Huntsman doesn’t seem like a man who gives second chances.
I glance at my watch. It’s already been the morning from hell, with hours left to go.
My father arranged a marriage between me and Antonio Huntsman. He took a solemn blood oath, and he didn’t have the balls to look me in the eye and tell me any of it.
Marriages are made between important families all the time, especially here, and land is often a dowry. I know this.
The bride, and even sometimes the groom, have no say in any of it. My parents had an arranged marriage. It worked out better than most, but still.
You don’t marry your daughter off to your enemy.
My father saw it differently, though.Even after we buried my mother. Even when he sent me away to recover. Even with all the time he spent alone, grieving, drowning in profound sorrow, not knowing if I would survive the tragedy, as he called it, he never stopped believing what was best for the region was best for us.
He wanted Antonio to keep me safe.What bullshit. What he wanted was to keep the grapes safe, and the vineyards out of the hands of an eighteen-year-old girl. He didn’t trust me to manage any of it. Or more to the point, he didn’t trust me to do right by his precious valley.
My father believed, with all his being, that Antonio Huntsman was born to rule the region, to move the valley forward in a way that would ensure it continued to prosper into the next generation, and beyond. He refused to see him as the enemy.“Hugo Huntsman was the enemy. Abel and Tomas Huntsman are enemies. Antonio is not our enemy.”He said it more times than I can count.
Are you happy now,Papai? You didn’t have the courage to face me on Earth, but one day you’ll have to face me, and if you ever make it to heaven, you’ll have to face my mother and explain your actions to her. You can tell her what you did to me, and Isabel, and Valentina. She’ll look at you with the revulsion you deserve.
