“But what cause?” I push. “What am I being protected from? Or does he just not trust me?”
She twists her hands in her apron nervously.
“It’s not my place to explain his decisions.”
“Of course not.” I try to be neutral, but the bitterness slips out. “No one will tell me anything. It’s like being in Italy all over again. Except at least there I had Andre…and Sasha. I miss them.”
She touches my shoulder gently.
“Patience, Liana. All those answers will come with time.”
But time is exactly what I don’t have. Every day brings me closer to marrying a stranger and being trapped here forever. Will my cousin be able to save me from this? Or am I stuck on my own?
“Thank you for dinner,” I say politely, instead of screaming. I just want this depressing conversation to be over now. “It was delicious.”
She hears the dismissal and gathers the tray, pausing at the door.
“Try to rest, mija. Tomorrow is another day.”
When she’s gone, I go back to unpacking, hanging clothes with too much force and slamming my drawers harder than necessary. I’m fully aware I’m acting like a child, but I can’t even help it. By the time I’m done, everything is perfect, and my anger is just a dull ache, but it’s still there…lingering.
I stand in the center of the room. My room, I guess, and take a deep breath. Is this how it will be? Will I have my own room separate from my husband? Will he come see me only when he wants an heir and enjoy other women the rest of the time? That thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I may not want to marry the old man but that doesn't mean I want my husband to take a mistress either. Unfortunately, I learned long ago that it doesn't matter what I want. I’m just a prisoner in whatever house I make my own.
“You can do this,” I whisper, the words hanging in the quiet. “You can survive this. Andre might not be here to help you but you aren’t weak. You are a Manitellie, after all.”
I run my fingers over the spines of my new books relishing in the smooth feel of the covers. Books Frankie bought without being asked…out of kindness, maybe? I try to believe that kindness, even from unexpected places, means I’m not truly alone here. That maybe, just maybe, this is more than being a pawn in someone else’s game.
It’s not much. But for tonight, it’s enough.
Chapter Eight
Liana
Aweek in this desert prison feels like a lifetime when you're counting the hours. I've memorized every inch of my cage. I know the exact number of steps from my bedroom to the kitchen (ninety-seven), how many tiles line the pool (two hundred and sixteen), which floorboards creak when I sneak down for midnight snacks (the third one past the staircase, always). What I haven't managed is getting more than ten words at a time from Frankie since our argument.
One minute he’s there and the next he’s gone. I know he’s avoiding me but I wish I knew why. I catch glimpses of him on phone calls that always seem heated and urgent. Once, I heard him speaking rapid Spanish through a door I wasn't supposed to approach. When he spotted me lingering, his face went blank, conversation abruptly terminated.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he'd asked, his voice dismissive.
The irony in that statement almost had me laughing in hisface…almost. Because no, actually, I don't. That's the whole problem. I have nowhere to be.
Today the sun beats down mercilessly making me wonder why God would make a place this hot. I look outside my window and watch as the pool beckons, its cool blue promising relief from both the heat and my crushing boredom. I slip into my new swimsuit, a sexy black bikini that my cousin would have never let me purchase and head downstairs. Pita sees me and raises her eyebrows with a smirk.
“Aye, mija. Rio will surely drop to his knees when he sees you in that. He may even gouge out the eyeballs of the men who look your way.”
I laugh out loud and slip out the back door towards the pool but her comment lingers.
‘Would he gouge out Frankie’s eyes? Because I wouldn’t mind him looking my way.’
The water surrounds me, sudden and cold, then warm as I move deeper into the pool. I swim, lap after lap, muscles burning and my mind finally still. Here, in the water, I find the closest thing to freedom…besides my books of course. The weightlessness of it and the steady pull as I wade through is…peaceful.
I float on my back afterward, eyes closed against the sun, letting water fill my ears until all I can hear is my own heartbeat. When I finally move towards the steps and stand up, water streams down my body and I feel the prickle of eyes on my skin. Someone is watching me.
I don't look around immediately. Instead, I pretend to adjust my top, casually scanning my surroundings and the house until I spot him. A large figure stands in the window of what must be his office. Frankie is watching me and he’s not even trying to hide it.
Something hot and dangerous unfurls in my belly. He thinks I don't know he's there. He thinks he can observe melike I'm some exotic creature in a zoo. Suddenly, I want to be that creature. I want to be exotic…and I want him to watch.
‘Let's give him something to look at, then.’
