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“How reassuring.”
I turn toward Caterina’s voice.
“You can leave my bags here, Diego,” she assures me with the tender uncertainty back in her voice.
Narciso smirks at me.
“I have no intention of sleeping in my future husband’s bed, but I have no argument with my belongings messing up his organized space.”
It’s my turn to smirk, and I do it triumphantly. If I were a better man, I would tell Caterina I was proud of her. Zero evidence exists of the panic attack that almost claimed her in the car, and there’s no indication her eyes were full of tears only minutes prior. Instead, she stands with her chin as high as the fucking vaulted ceilings and her eyes as void as the personality in this room.
“I’m going to explore my prison. Are there rooms I’m forbidden from entering?” Her arms cross over her chest, and I catch the tremor in her hands as she tucks them into her elbows.
Narciso laughs. “This isn’tBeauty and the Beast, sweetheart. This house is as much yours as it is Salvatore’s, so you’re free to roam wherever you wish.”
She nods. “In that case”—she clears her throat—“I’m not your sweetheart, and you’ll call ahead before turning up at my home moving forward.”
Narciso slides his hands into his pocket. “My wife and daughter will love you.”
That brings a genuine smile to Caterina’s face. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
I wait with Narciso for another hour, convincing myself I’m killing time until the evening, but even my subconscious isn’t stupid enough to believe me. I’m worried about Caterina, and I don’t know what to do with it.
Excusing himself, Narciso leaves me on the back deck, staring out at the choppy water and stormy sky. I arrived at Salvatore’s home, assuming he was an obnoxious prick, but the serenity is addictive. So much is happening against the skyline, yet a sense of calm has engulfed me.
I shake it off, hating feeling anything but vigilant. I move through the house with purpose in search of Caterina to let her know I’m leaving. I doubt she’ll care, but after the effort of the day, it seems wrong to leave without informing her. I find her in a room that could be a study or a library, likely both. She’s more content than I’ve seen her all day. Lying along one of the many sofas in the room, she has one of her legs thrown over the backrest, the other the armrest. She has a book in her hands and a smile on her face. I don’t interrupt her and walk away a little more at ease that she isn’t rocking back and forth in a corner, praying for a hero to rescue her.
* * *
The night is coolerthan I expected, but a sheen of sweat still scores along my skin.
Mother Nature hinders my ability to hunt with ease. She thwarts my practiced skill of zoning in on specific sounds and smells, her tantrum whirling around me in the precipice of a storm that I wish I had the power to stop. The wind whips at my ears, camouflaging the soft thud of her feet as she runs through the maze. I stop, centering myself. I breathe deeply through my nose, but rain tickles at my nostrils instead of the disturbed earth giving away her position. A smell I normally admire, but tonight, I wish it would fuck off out of my life.
She’s running more than usual. In the few instances I’ve managed to cross her path, she’s been breathless and sweaty. Mud caked onto her calf muscles like clay, and her small footprints are a conflicting sight of fresh and worn, half washed away by the sporadic showers that continue to fall upon us. She’s doubling back over already explored ground. Not that I’m doing anything different. My boot prints are not dissimilar from that of her feet. The weather has scrambled our ability to hunt one another effectively, and as pissed off as my novice effort is making me, the harder I have to work, the harder my dick grows in my pants.
I glance left and right, searching my mind for the path back to one of the few small clearings in the large maze. If I can make it there, I’ll have an open view of multiple passageways. She’ll have to come into view at some point, and then I’ll have her where I want her.
I turn right without delay, moving quickly against the light raindrops collecting themselves over my hoodie. It takes me five minutes of wasted time, but I find one of the open plains. It’s not large enough for me to lose sight of her quickly when she passes, but not small enough for me to catch her the second she breaches the threshold. She’ll be exactly where I want her.
I stand back from manufactured light spurting up from the ground, leaning into the shadows of the trees instead. The rain slows its fall, and I look up toward the sky, the stars and moon not visible under the indecisive weather.
When I right my neck, I smile.
Looking back over her shoulder, she jogs right into the open space, her eyes searching the obscurity surrounding her for any sign of me.
Confident she’s alone, her shoulders relax, and her feet stop moving. She breathes in deeply, tipping her face up to the sky.
I choose my path purposely, waiting until I’m in full view before letting the sole of my boot press against a stick large enough to crack with notability.
She startles, and I smile beneath my mask.
Barely a yard in length or width separates us. We’re bracketed by a thick smattering of trees that stand tall beside us.
Her chest begins to heave—in panic or excitement, I can’t tell, but it delights me either way.
I step forward, expecting her to turn and run, but instead, she too advances.
I pause, and so does she.
