"I don't know anything about your business."
"Better to keep it that way."
My phone buzzes with a text from Sarah: "This driver won't take us anywhere that's not on his pre-approved list. What the hell, Maddie? What is he afraid of us seeing?"
"I need to go," I say.
Another text from Sarah: "We're basically being given a curated tour. This is weird. Have we been kidnapped? Should we expect to be driven to his friend’s shop and held there until we buy out the place?"
"They're getting frustrated with Antonio’s tour," I tell Enzo. “Sarah’s too smart for this. She's going to figure out something is off."
He pulls me closer and kisses me then, slow and thorough, like he's trying to remind me why I'm going along with all of this. When he pulls back, I'm breathless and conflicted and no closer to understanding how I got into this situation.
"Go," he says. "Have lunch. Be the happy friend they came to see."
I drive myself to meet them at a café overlooking the sea. Jessica is taking photos of everything while Sarah sits with her arms crossed, clearly annoyed.
"Finally, you’re here," Sarah says when she sees me. "Your boyfriend's driver is very restrictive about where we can go and what we can see."
"He's just being cautious. The roads here are dangerous."
"Bullshit." Sarah leans forward. "What's really going on, Maddie?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean your boyfriend controls everything. Where we stay, where we go, who drives us. This morning, I tried to hire a taxi to see your village and suddenly no one was available. That's not normal."
"You went to the village?"
"I tried to. Every taxi was mysteriously booked."
Because Enzo controls them all, I realize. The entire local transportation network answers to him.
"Sarah, you're being paranoid."
"Am I? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're involved with someone who has an unhealthy level of control over your life."
If only she knew how right she was. And how much worse it actually is.
"It's not like that," I say weakly.
"Then what is it like?"
"He's just... protective."
"That's one way to describe it."
"Can we just have a nice lunch?" Jessica interrupts. "We're in freaking Sicily with our best friend. Let's enjoy it. You’re both so serious today. Come on, lighten up!"
Sarah backs down, but I can see her watching me throughout the meal. Cataloging my nervous gestures, the way I check my phone, how I deflect questions about Enzo and the village.
After lunch, Antonio appears to drive us to the Greek Theater. The ancient amphitheater is stunning, carved into the hillside with Mount Etna smoking in the distance. Jessica goes wild with photos while Sarah pulls me aside.
"I looked Enzo up," she says quietly.
My heart stops. "And?"
"Very successful. Multiple businesses. Shipping, real estate, hospitality. All very legitimate on paper."
