The car door shuts,and it feels like there is no oxygen.
Lorenzo slides into the seat beside me without looking at me.
He’s pissed. I’m not sure what he’s got to complain about since I’m the one being held hostage. But his jaw is locked so tight that it looks like it might crack.
The driver begins to drive us away from my childhood home.
I keep my hands clasped in my lap as we head to God knows where. Silence presses between us so hard I swear it would be comical if anyone else was sitting beside me.
I stare straight ahead, breathing in the floral scent of my bouquet that is still clutched in my hands. My wedding bouquet. I’m shocked I was even allowed one. This whole wedding was a sham. I should throw it out the window, or better yet, wait until we get to his house and then set it on fire.
I should shove it down his throat.
Unfortunately, that’s not an option, so instead, I break before the silence does.
“So . . . this is it?” I fix my eyes on the back of the driver’s seat, not wanting to look at Lorenzo. “You won. You got what you wanted.”
Lorenzo’s rough chuckle echoes through the space. It sounds low and amused. “Don’t be dramatic, Little Bird. If I wanted to win, I’d be happier.”
His fingers start to drum against his knee.Bored with me already?
Too bad. I’m just getting started with my questions. “What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”
From the corner of my eye, I can see Lorenzo turning his head in my direction, so I follow suit until our gazes lock. His eyes gleam in the dark of the limo, studying me.
“Because you left,” he says.
Blunt. Cruel. Too honest. I’m shocked that he’s admitting this to me.
My breath catches. “I—what? When? We were kids—”
“And I never did.” He cuts in. “Not really.”
My throat tightens. “That doesn’t explain anything.”
He leans back in his seat, expression unreadable. “Then don’t ask questions you aren’t ready for answers to.”
“Try me.”
His jaw ticks once. “You wouldn’t like the truth.”
“Tell me anyway.”
That earns a quiet laugh, dark and sharp. It sends a cold shiver down my spine.
“You think you want the truth? You think you can handle the version of me you created?”
“I didn’t create anything,” I snap.
He tilts his head. “Didn’t you?”
The car fills again with silence. But this silence isn’t empty. Nor is it peaceful. It’s suffocating.
I turn toward the window, watching the world slide by in expensive blurs of light.
It feels like forever, but eventually, a new estate emerges through the trees.
It’s not as large as my parents’, but it’s still very much intimidating. A massive iron gate opens without the car slowing. Armed men step aside silently.
