What surprised me the most was that Ben Dalton had it in him all along.
Aniello walked to the window in the back of the room, looking out of it after Ben left. He didn’t look at me when he dismissed me from the room, saying, “Get back to work,” a few minutes later.
As I turned the corner on unsteady legs, the last thing I heard him say was, “sit.” I was tempted to obey, but I kept walking, knowing he wasn’t talking to me.
* * *
Club D was slowerthan usual. The media outside had everything to do with it. Most of the men ducked when the spotlight was aimed at them. But Ben had left, taking the circus with him. It still must have left a sour smell in the air, because business never picked up.
The men who showed up, though, seemed more demanding, so in another way, they were constantly giving everyone something to do.
It felt like the never-ending night.
The tension was still high. Every time my bracelet went off, I wondered if Aniello would be calling me to his private bath suite. Every corner I rounded, I wondered if Big Bismo was going to be waiting for me. Every time someone walked through the door, I wondered if Ben was back with more threats. Every time a girl looked at me the wrong way, I had to keep my fists balled to keep from lashing out.
I needed to escape for a while. I needed some fresh air.
Leaving my bracelet and phone, which I usually did, in my locker, I took my packed “lunch” and headed outside to the gardens. At night, they were even more beautiful. Torches lit up certain areas, and in others, it was gas lanterns or those small lights that reminded me of tiny fairies.
A variety of flowers gave off a medley of different perfumes, and the tepid night air held them close even when a breeze would sweep the ground. I breathed them all in, exhaling in a rush, thankful for the change of scenery.
It was the first time I’d felt I could breathe all day. The air out here was free and mine.
After searching for the Hamartia Garden and not being able to find it, I decided to sit in the sad girl’s alcove. I couldn’t find a plaque or anything that gave her name, so I went with what came to mind.
Her melancholy stare seemed to watch me as I set my Italian sparkling water down and opened my container of salad.
“You’re actually better company than the girls inside,” I said. “You’re more pleasant.”
Her sadness looked even more alive in the night. Vivid, almost, with her stark paleness outlined by the darkness and the haloing light from a gas lantern tucked inside a bunch of shrubs.
It wasn’t just her. I’d noticed on my walk that the landscape, with all its stone and marble additions, seemed to come to life in the darkness too.
Just like the towering structure in front of me that had been reduced to nothing but a monstrous shape outlined against a starless sky. It was safe to be real when the night hid all its secrets. Like a bunch of ghosts coming out to play in a cemetery when the rest of the world was fast asleep.
Like me, who had an internal clock that was screwed up. I was one big secret, my mind the cage.
After mixing up my salad some, I took a bite, trying not to think about the last couple of hours. Except for Aniello. I couldn’tnotthink of him. I knew he was inside somewhere, or close, and the need to be near him surpassed anything I felt. It went far beyond a basic need. I felt the ache in the marrow of my bones.
Sort of like this sad girl who watched me eat. I wondered if that was how I looked every time he left me. Maybe one day I’d be known as the “sad girl” too, if things continued along the same path.
I was not marrying Ben Dalton.
End of story.
I wasn’t sure what had ever possessed me to agree to marry his brother,ifI had, but whatever it was, it had to be extreme.
I had seen girls watch as their lives were signed over, the ink more like blood sealing the contract between one family and another. A young girl came to mind, a ballerina. I was pretty sure her name was Luna. Her uncle brought her to the club to watch as her arranged marriage to a man named Enzo De Rossi was sealed. She ran out, unable to control the desperation she felt. It was written all over her face.
Something about her situation reminded me of Cilla’s. I only hoped that her marriage would work—unlike a marriage between me and Ben. I refused to entertain the idea, much less live the reality of it.
The sound of heavy footsteps clomping in the grass made me look up from my bowl. Big Bismo appeared out of the darkness, the gas lantern lighting up his sweating face and the bright white of his button-down linen shirt.
“How’d you find me?” My voice sounded accusatory, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
He waved a hand, then took a hankie out of his pocket, dabbing his face. “One of the girls saw you enter the gardens.” He took a seat next to me, not even bothering to wait for an invitation. He looked into my bowl. “Rabbit food.”
I stabbed the lettuce and stuffed it into my mouth.
