He takes them from me, examining each title before flipping them over to read the backs. His eyes scrunch up and I’m suddenly glowing very red while I try to remember what books I’ve chosen. I’ve purposely picked titles with discreet covers but now I’m worried what words this man is possibly reading right now. After a few agonizing minutes, he looks up at me with a small smirk and hands the books to the cashier. If the Earth could just open up and swallow me whole right now, that would be great.
"These are fine," he says with a straight face while I stand there mortified. I’m suddenly grateful for the few other books I put back on the shelf.
As we walk back to the truck, I can't help but ask, "Why did you bring me here?"
Frankie studies me for a long moment. "Everyone needs an escape," he says finally. "Even prisoners."
The word hangs between us. He’s not sugar-coating it and neither of us pretends it isn't true.
Back in the truck, surrounded by shopping bags and my new books, I feel both better and worse. The day out was a relief, but it only highlighted the reality of my situation. No matter how many new clothes I have, no matter how many books, I'm still here against my will, waiting to marry a man I've never met.
"Thank you," I say quietly as Frankie starts the engine. "For today."
He doesn't look at me, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"Don't thank me, Liana. I'm still your jailer."
The brutal honesty should sting, but somehow it's refreshing after a lifetime of lies and half-truths. I clutch one of my new books to my chest and watch the city blur past the window, wondering if I'll ever see it again.
Chapter Six
Liana
The gates of my prison groan shut behind us, the sound slicing through the dry, dead air like the last ring of a funeral bell. My funeral to be exact…and yes I know I’m being a bit dramatic, but can you blame me? I clutch my new stack of books to my chest, knuckles white and the sharp scent of fresh ink and new paper doing nothing to tether me to reality. If I had one wish right this very second, it would be that one of these books could swallow me whole and suck me into their universe. I don’t even have to look at any of them to know I would be better off there than here right now.
Frankie kills the engine with a flick of his wrist, and the sudden silence is brutal. It wraps around us like a constrictor, squeezing tighter with each passing second until my lungs burn for air that suddenly feels too heavy to breathe.
I glance sideways, searching for a crack in his granite mask, but he just stares ahead, jaw working slightly as if chewing on words he won't let himself say. His hands rest on the wheel, fingers drumming once, then freezing, then curlinginto a fist before deliberately relaxing again. The tension coming off him shifts between anger and something softer…uncertainty maybe? Is he waiting for me to say something?
Finally, I can’t hold it in any longer and the words tumble out, desperate and sharp just as he goes to reach for the door handle.
“When can I talk to Andre?” My voice cracks, and I hate how needy it sounds. “I need to let him know I’m okay.”
He doesn’t even flinch but for a second, his hand just hovers above the door handle like I’ve hit a nerve he didn’t know he had. The silence stretches, and I can’t tell if he’s searching for the right words or just deciding if I even deserve an answer. It would be typical for him to outright ignore me…expected even. When he finally turns to face me, his eyes are dead cold and I subconsciously flinch away from him. Why does he look so angry?
“You’re not allowed contact with anyone right now,” he responds before turning away again. “I’ll let you know when that changes.”
The words hit me like a slap to my face. I know my uncle took my phone but I didn’t think that meant I wouldn’t be getting a new one.
“What do you mean ‘not allowed’?” My voice rises in pitch and I can feel anxiety creeping in. I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared to be completely cut off from everyone I love.
“He’s my cousin. He’s probably freaking out! You can’t just cut me off like this.”
“This isn’t a discussion, Liana.” He’s already pushing his door open and not even bothering to look at me.
I hate him. I hate the bastard, maybe more than the man I’m supposed to marry. And this isn’t nothing, like how he's acting. Not to me. This is everything. Panic surges in my chest as I scramble out after him, nearly tripping on the gravel. The heat outside hits me and sweat prickles along my hairline. Ican’t tell if it’s the temperature or the anger surging through my body.
“You can’t just cut me off from everyone I care about!”
I’m shouting now, my voice bouncing off the stone and sand and echoing across the empty grounds. “What am I supposed to do here? Sit around and look pretty until my so-called fiancé decides I’m worth his time? Am I just a doll for grandpa to come play with whenever he feels like it?”
Frankie stops dead at the base of the steps. His shoulders are locked tight and I watch as every muscle strains under the black cotton of his t-shirt. Why does he have to be so damn hot? Is the world mocking me right now? Why am I being tortured with this God of a man? Surely my old husband won’t look anything like him. I’m certain of it. He turns slowly, deliberately, and when he looks at me, his eyes are black storms. I should be scared. I should be cowering, but for some reason, I want to push him further. I want to see him break like I’m breaking right now inside.
“Liana,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. It sends shivers up my spine and heat straight between my thighs.
“No.”
The word is out before I can stop it. I march up to him, anger and lust making me reckless, and jab a finger at his chest.
