“I already booked tickets,” I lie. “We have to leave soon. I promise we’ll call Brandon when we’re in the air.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Why don’t you want to wait for Brandon?”
“Like I said,” I repeat myself. “I’ve already got tickets.”
She doesn’t look sure. I can tell that she wants to believe me, but she’s having a hard time letting go of her fear. If only she knew the truth. She has every right to be afraid. But I can’t risk losing her to my rival the same way we lost her brother. I don’t feel bad about prioritizing someone who means a great deal to me over someone I’ve never met. Even if Marlena’s loyalties are torn, mine aren’t.
“So, pack a bag and we’ll get going,” I say, hoping that she’ll let the matter drop.
She doesn’t. “I’m not going anywhere until I speak with my brother,” she says.
I sigh, pretending to give up. “Okay. We’ll wait for Brandon. But in the meantime, I think we could do some shopping.”
She perks up at the word shopping, just like every woman I’ve ever known. “Shopping? For what?”
“You need a few new outfits for our trip,” I explain. “We can go into the city, get a new wardrobe, and be home before Brandon arrives.”
Her shoulders slump. I can see I’m getting through to her. My logic is impeccable, and what woman can resist an all-expensespaid shopping trip? She gives me a warm smile and nods, walking back into the bathroom to do her hair.
I wait until the bathroom door is closed before rummaging through her things. I’m looking for her passport; everything else we can buy on our little excursion. I check the drawers near her bed with no luck. I check the drawers in the living room and come up equally empty-handed.
In the closet in her bedroom, I find a nondescript suitcase. It’s the kind of thing every airline passenger might carry, and the sort of bag that would get mixed up in a low budget comedy. I drag it out and set it on the bed, opening it carefully. If I’m right, this bag holds a lot of sentimental value for her. It’s the perfect thing to take with you if you’re on the run, and once I unzip it, I discover that it’s full of personal items.
I feel like a thief going through her things. This is a woman I care about, and I don’t want to disrespect her. There’s not much of intrinsic value, but some old diaries and a jewelry box. I find what I’m looking for in a zippered pouch, grab it, and thrust it into my pocket. Restoring the suitcase to its rightful place, I hurry out the door.
Halfway down the stairs, I run into Frankie. He’s walking out of the kitchen with a plate full of food, on the way to his suite. He stops, staring at me as if he hopes I would disappear. I know he’s still mad at me for taking Marlena. It’s not hard to deduce that he was attracted to her too. I don’t feel like a winner, only like a bad father. I’ve also just stolen from and lied to my intended bride, so I feel bad about that too.
“Frankie,” I say. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he snaps.
I plant myself in front of him, determined to say my piece. “I’m sorry that things worked out this way. Believe me, I didn’t have any designs on Marlena until she got into trouble.”
“That’s such a lie,” Frankie scoffs. “You wanted her from the day I brought her home. And guess what? You got her. You’re such a big man, why wouldn’t she go straight to the top?”
“I didn’t steal her from you,” I counter.
“Yes, you did,” he replies. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re always going to win and I’m always going to lose.”
“Don’t say that, Frankie,” I implore him. “I have to go away for a little while. But I want you to know, if anything happens, I’ve always loved you.”
That stops him. He lowers his plate and gives me a concerned look, devoid of all the hatred that had been there moments ago. “Is everything all right?”
“I can’t go into it,” I say hesitantly.
“Of course,” he mutters.
“It’s not me,” I assure him. “It’s Marlena who’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” He’s quick to ask.
“The violent kind,” I reply.
Frankie thinks about that for a moment, and then decides he’s on board with my plan. “Good. Get her out of here. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“Neither do I,” I agree.
“So when will you be back?”
