Good bye, Massimo.
I hope you and your girl have a good life, for as long as it lasts. I can’t wait until my father gets his hands on you.
I don’t really want father to hurt him, but in that moment, the thought strangely makes me laugh. No, that’s not why I’m laughing.
It’s because I’m free, finally free.
And I mean it in all senses of the word, because I don’t think I’m going to return home. Thoughts of taking a ferry to the Italian mainland fill my head. After all, if I return, Papa will probably make me go through with the marriage to The Cleaver.
So yes, Massimo has inadvertently handed me a gift. A way to escape my arranged marriage. For that, I will forever be grateful, I suppose.
But I’ll always resent and hate him for what he did to me today.
Yes, there’s a special place in hell reserved for people who cheat upon women.
People like Massimo Moretti.
15
Massimo
I’m seated by the floor-to-ceiling window in the kitchen and eating the leftover penne I’d cooked Angela. It’s one of my better recipes, but it still tastes bland to me, I guess because I have so much on my mind. No, that’s not why… after what I experienced with Angela this morning, everything is going to seem bland compared to that.
I shake my head. I’ve been bouncing back and forth like that ever since leaving her room. First telling myself I really like her, then telling myself I’m just toying with her. No matter what I tell myself, though, the end is always the same: anything we might have together is doomed. There’s no happy ending in sight, not for us. And that’s mostly because of what I’ve done, I realize that. I should have left her alone.
But I couldn’t stand back and let her marry The Cleaver.
I think of my little shouting match with Rosa in the hallway. Rosa was giving me shit for going through with the kidnapping. She wanted to know why I was so happy—I think she knows something’s going on between me and my captive.
Motion draws my eye to the beach beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. I see a figure streaking by in the distance, dressed in a white top and black jeans, with long hair streaming out behind her.
What the shit…
Angela got out. How?
I drop my fork and rush to the screen door. I open it and dash toward her. I consider sending the dogs instead, but this beach is a lot wider than that of the previous vineyard, and I don’t own the neighboring lands, so there are a lot of places she could go. She might make it to the neighbor’s door before I’m done feeding the dogs, and I’m definitely not going to risk sending the mastiffs after her when they’re hungry.
With each step my feet sink into the sand—it’s almost like invisible claws are grabbing at my feet and trying to slow me down. A part of me almost wants to let her get away so that this nightmare I’ve inflicted on her can end. Another part shouts that she belongs to me and no other, and it won’t allow me to set her free.
Angela is fast, but I’m faster, and though the sand drags at me and limits my top speed, I close the gap with her.
She glances over her shoulder and sees me coming. She picks up the pace and her shoes go flying off. I vaguely wonder whether she kicked them off because she thinks she’ll run faster without them, or the sand tore them away.
Suddenly she swerves toward the sea and begins wading into the water, as if she would prefer to drown herself than live another day in my custody.
“Stop!” I shout. “Angela! What are you doing?”
She ignores me, moving deeper. I wade in after her, the water clinging to my legs, feeling thick, almost viscous. And though the sea only reaches a little below my knees, the waves are powerful today, and each one slows me to a full stop when it hits, splashing my thighs and upper body with cool liquid.
“Angela!” I call, wiping the salt water from my eyes.
The water and its waves are an equalizer, and I’m now only a little faster than her. I close painstakingly slowly.
When the water reaches my waist, I cheat, and dive in. I switch to a breaststroke, while she continues to wade on her feet.
I fight against the current, and see her legs poking through the murk just ahead. I come up behind her and touch the ground to stand up. I thrust from the water and wrap my arms around her waist from behind. Then I spin around to drag her back toward the shore.
She kicks and fights against me the whole way, which arouses me. But then I notice her face is covered in tears. “Don’t you touch me! I hate you!”
