Cesare’s expression twists with barely concealed disappointment.The sick bastard was looking forward to hurting me.
“A few days in the dark without food or water,” my father continues, “that tends to produce more reliable results.Solitude has a way of loosening tongues.When the mind begins to fray, when the body grows desperate, people find themselves remarkably talkative and more willing to cooperate.”
He moves toward the door, and Cesare follows reluctantly after shooting me one last look that promises this isn’t over.That when my father tires of waiting, he’ll get his turn.
I won’t give them that satisfaction.I won’t break.
Shelby will come for me, I tell myself.When I don’t come home, he’ll know something is wrong.He’ll find me.
The GPS in my phone.The cameras on the streets.There are a hundred ways for Shelby to find me, and he’s more intelligent and more resourceful than anyone I know.
He’ll come.He has to.
Giovanni pauses at the threshold.When he turns back, the smile on his face is pure evil.“By the way,principessa.Don’t hold your breath because I’m afraid your dear husband won’t be looking for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pulls my phone from his jacket pocket, the rose-gold case catching the light.My stomach drops.
“I sent him a message when you arrived here,” he says, casually, as if I’ve come to visit.“From you, of course.A lovely goodbye note explaining that you’ve left him.That you can’t do this anymore.That he shouldn’t try to find you.”
The words hit me like bullets.Each one tears through the hope I’ve been clinging to.
“He won’t believe it,” I whisper, but my voice wavers.“He’ll know something’s wrong.”
“Will he?”Giovanni tilts his head, considering.“You thought you fooled me with that lame story about seeing Boyle behind my back.Your marriage is a facade.A desperate gambit to escape my plans for you.What reason does he have to believe you’d stick around forever?”
I think of Brazil.Of the promises we made under the stars.Of the certainty in Shelby’s eyes when he said he was falling for me.
He’ll know.He has to know.
“He won’t just accept a text message.That’s not who he is.”
My father shrugs, unconcerned.“By the time he pieces together the truth, it’ll be too late.And then...”He exchanges a glance with Cesare.“Well.We’ll decide what to do with you.”
Cesare’s smile is a wound.
The door closes, and the darkness swallows me whole again.
I don’t know how long I lie there in the silence.Time stretches and contracts, losing all meaning in the void.My thoughts spiral between hope and despair, between certainty that Shelby will come and the creeping fear that my father might be right.
I imagine Shelby reading the note.His face closing off.Those icy blue eyes going cold.I imagine him wondering if everything between us was a lie.If I was playing him all along, gathering information to bring back to my father.
No.I refuse to let that thought take root.He knows me.We’re trying to build something real together.
But doubt is a poison, and it’s already spreading through my veins.
I think of everything we’ve been through together.The night I showed up at his penthouse, desperate, asking for his help.The wedding in Vegas.The weeks of pretending that became something neither of us expected.The investigation that brought us closer even as it revealed the depths of my father’s depravity.
Brazil.The beach.His hands on my skin.His voice in my ear, promising me forever.
“Whatever comes, I’m not leaving you.”
Those were my words.My promise to him.
I cling to them now like a lifeline.
The darkness presses in, and the cold seeps deeper, and my wrists ache from the chains.But I don’t cry.I don’t scream.I won’t give them the satisfaction.
