“I think we can manage that.”
I felt like I went from my father’s house, to the nuns, to Salvatore Benedetti’s. I was powerless to decide anything for myself.
“Luce?” Izzy asked.
I nodded, adjusting my expression. “My calendar is free,” I said, giving Salvatore a smirk.
He didn’t react.
“Great, we’ll see you then. Come on, Effie, time to go back home.”
“Ugh. Home is so boring,” she said, her shoulders slumping.
“No, it’s not. We’ve just got to find your box of toys. Maybe you can pack up a couple of those cookies for home.”
I picked up a napkin, tucked the remaining cookies into it, and handed it to Effie.
“Here you go, honey. Don’t forget your bathing suit the next time you come, by the way.”
“I won’t, Aunt Lucia.”
She gave me a hug. Again came the thought that I’d missed out on the first years of my niece’s life. I didn’t know her. I hardly knew Izzy anymore. Or Luke.
Were Luke and Izzy really planning an attack on the Benedetti family? What did that mean for Salvatore?
Salvatore walked with us to the door. Once they had driven off and were out of view, he closed it. We stood in the foyer.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
Shit. An apology was the last thing I’d expected. If he’d locked me in a room, been a beast to me, it would make more sense. I could hate him. But an apology? Him offering to take me to my sister’s?
“I hope we can forget it and start again,” he added.
I think both of us found it hard to hold each other’s gaze, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about what happened, so I nodded. “Okay.”
He smiled a small smile. “Thank you.”
“If you ever do something like that again, Salvatore, I will kill you.”
His eyes narrowed, and apologetic Salvatore was instantly gone. “You don’t have to threaten me with murder. I said I was sorry.”
He held my gaze until I blinked and nodded, looking down, my attention absorbed by an invisible piece of lint on my blouse.
“Are you really going to take me to help my sister?”
“You’re not a prisoner, contrary to what you think, Lucia. This contract between us, the circumstances of our families, those things bind us, and although I have expectations of you and won’t tolerate misplaced loyalty, I’m not interested in keeping a prisoner. Neither you nor I can get out of this, even if we wanted to. We have to find some way to live with it.”
Even if we wanted to.Did that mean he didn’t want to? And what did I want?
“I feel like a prisoner. I’m constantly watched. I couldn’t visit with my sister without Marco standing by. I have nothing to do here. You have a cook, people who clean…”
He looked confused. “You’re neither a cook nor a cleaner.”
“But I am your property. You said so yourself. I have a degree, I want to work, but—”
His mouth tightened, and he looked away for a moment. “Come into my study, Lucia.”
“Why?” I didn’t trust him. And as much as I hated to admit it, he scared me.
