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I jump when I hear a commotion down the hall. Matteo’s men must have returned from the party. From the sound of laughter and cheers, at least some people had fun at my wedding. Because it sure wasn’t me.
I wish I were back home in my dance studio without a care in the world. Ever since Matteo stepped into my life, everything has changed.
Knowing I can’t just stand here all night, I start to dance. I need something to distract myself. At first, I sway gently from side to side, loosening my body up. Then I take a step forwardand really start to dance. I move with ease, dancing on my tiptoes, extending my legs and arms out. I move like I’m calling out a prayer, yearning for an answer to help better the situation I’ve found myself in.
I gasp and stop when I hear a knock on the door.
“I hope you two are having fun in there!” a male voice says on the other side. It sounds like Carlo. “I’m jealous.”
I don’t say anything.
Another knock. “Matteo? Why aren’t you answering?”
My eyes land on the doorknob. It’s not locked.
I run to the door as it opens, coming face to face with Carlo.
“Adelina?” He frowns, looking around the room. “Where’s Matteo?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. He left.”
“On your wedding night?”
“Uh …” I wring my hands together. “We got into a fight, and he left.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry. Do you want me to find him for you?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. I’m just going to stay in here. If you could shut the door …”
“Sure.” He looks me over. “You look beautiful, by the way. Matteo is an idiot for leaving you in here all alone.”
“Thanks.”
Carlo nods as he shuts the door behind him. I run over to it and lock it, only feeling safe when I hear the lock click in its place. I press my ear to the door and listen as Carlo walks down the hallway. He knocks on another door, checking for Matteo. I barely hear a muffled response from someone else, then Carlo walking away again. I have no clue what that’s about or where Matteo is, but I want even less to do with him.
I pace around the room, wondering what to do all night. I’m too wired to sleep. I’m too exhausted to try leaving. I don’t even have a cell phone on me. I’d have to go out there and confrontMatteo’s men if I wanted to leave, and the thought terrifies me. I’m all alone in a biker’s den. This is my worst nightmare.
I walk to the door again when I hear female voices chattering. Maybe I could ask one of them for help.
I crack the door open an inch and peek out. The women I saw earlier are standing in the hallway, talking to each other. Their eyes flit to me when I open the door wider.
“Can you help me?” I ask.
The three women are all in various stages of undress, from bikini tops to just a strip of cloth used as a skirt. They exchange a look before turning to me.
“What do you need?” one of them asks, a blonde with a large bust and pretty blue eyes.
“Do you have a phone I could borrow?”
“Why do you need a phone?”
I huff. “Because I need to call someone for help.”
The women look at each other and chuckle. “Sweetie,” the blonde says to me, “why would you want to leave? You’re married to Matteo. You don’t know how lucky you have it. Any one of us would have loved to marry him. Be grateful. You’re safe here.”
Be grateful. That sounds a lot like what Serafina told me. So, I should just be grateful that my husband almost raped me earlier tonight? I never asked for this life. Why should I be grateful for something I never asked for?
“So, you’re not going to help me?”
