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Daniela
Armed with the information Victor gave me at lunch, I spend the better part of the afternoon planning an escape, with an occasional trip to the second-floor window to conduct reconnaissance.
I have a few euros left, and one hundred and four American dollars. Although it won’t take me far, it’s a lot more money than I normally carry. I also have a US government-issued ID. But no passport or phone. Cristiano confiscated them at Moniz’s office. Fortunately, he didn’t take my purse. Otherwise, I’d have no money either.
The passport is the biggest problem. I can buy a burner phone once I’m out of here, but passports are harder to come by.
I caress the antique locket hanging between my breasts, letting my fingertip trace the tiny hinge. My mother wore it near her heart, too, with a picture of her mother tucked into the left side, and a picture of me on the right.
I unclasp the solid gold charm and open it carefully. After she died, I slippedMamai’s picture inside, over my grandmother’s.
In the last few years, when money got tight, I sold all my jewelry, and with a heavy heart, most of my mother’s. But I kept the locket, even though it would command a good price. My mother wore it all the time, and Icouldn’t bear to part with it.I still can’t.Although I might not have a choice.
The knock at the door startles me, and I close the locket and tuck it inside my shirt. “Come in.”
“Do you need anything?” Paula asks from the doorway.
“I don’t. Thank you. But come sit with me for a few minutes. I could use the company.”
Paula comes inside and sits at the edge of the love seat, like a timid fawn. Poor woman. She hasn’t quite figured out how to be a personal maid, especially to someone like me, who’s informal and doesn’t need help at their beck and call.
“I saw you outside during lunch today, on the back of a truck with a young man.”
The color drains from her face—all of it.
“It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble,” I assure her. But she doesn’t relax.
I feel terrible for bringing it up, and if I had any decency, I would stop questioning her. But I don’t.I can’t.That area, without cameras and guards, might be my best hope to get out of here, and she knows about it. I have to pick her brain, even if it makes me a despicable bitch.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
She nods.
I smile softly. “Is it a secret?”
She shrugs. “My mother knows about him, but not my father.”
Ahh, of course.“Fathers are always the last to know. Right before husbands,” I tease. But she doesn’t laugh. Or smile, even.
“Paula, I’m not going to tell your father about him—or anyone else. You understand that, don’t you?”
She nods, but it’s not convincing.
“Then why is your face green, like you’re about to vomit?”
Her shoulders shake gently as she begins to cry. I get up for a box of tissues and sit on the small sofa beside her.
Her father might be traditional, and strict about her boyfriends, but this is more than that.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
She balls a tissue between her hands. “I’m not allowed to date. When I worked in the tasting room, Raul and I saw each other all the time—but then I came here.” Her shoulders roll forward as they slump. “Raul sometimes comes to have lunch with me.”
“You don’t need to be so nervous. That’s whatamorzinhosdo. They do everything they can to be together.” Not that I have much experience with the kind of love that makes sweethearts take risks. My relationship with Josh wasn’t like that.
“Please don’t tell—SenhorHuntsman. I beg of you.”
“I won’t say a word. But why wouldSenhorHuntsman care about you and Raul? I can’t imagine he’d tell your father.” Although Antonio certainly supports the misogyny of the old ways.
