My biggest fear is that it will happen again—and next time, I won’t escape those iron bars. Next time, the person who takes me will want me dead.
When we arrive at Maximo’s home, I still don’t have any answers. Just a lot of swirling thoughts that are bringing on a headache.
But I’m still annoyed at Maximo for thinking he can boss me around and I’m just going to be agood girland take it.
I manage to avoid him as I make a beeline for my bedroom, and lock the door behind me. With my back to the solid surface, I heave a relieved sigh. This is my sanctuary—for now. I’m safe in here. For now.
Curiosity draws my gaze to the closet. He said he left me a dress to wear. What does it look like? Is it another Skye Adair Couture design?
Is that all he was doing in my bedroom while I was away? What gives him the right to be in here at all? This space belongs to me for as long as I have to stay here.
I tear my attention away from the closet, unwilling to let him get under my skin, and go in search of my laptop. It’s in the drawer where I left it. Plopping on the bed, I open my writing program where I keep my current work in progress. I’m in the middle of the third and final book of my epic Romantasy trilogy, though I’ve only published up to the end of book two, leaving my readers with a brutal cliffhanger. I’ll start giving them chapters from book three soon.
It’s my favorite romance genre to read, and one day I decided to try writing a story that I wanted to read but couldn’t find. The plot started out very personal with a trapped princess in a dangerous kingdom. Then over time she gained her freedom,found her magical powers, and in this final book her long-time enemy turned lover and she will get their happily ever after.
How can I write about this character pulling her life together and saving her kingdom when in my real life I don’t have half the nerve she does? Who knows. But it’s my escape. My way of dealing with reality is to escape it from time to time.
Well, maybe tonight I’ll take a page out of my own character’s book and refuse to cooperate with Maximo. You can’t be the heroine of your own story if you let everyone else try to take charge of your life. And he definitely qualifies as my personal villain right now.
I spend the rest of the day writing a couple of chapters. My hungry fans are really not happy about the cliffhanger I left them on last week. I need to give them the next bit really soon—even though it also ends on a cliffhanger. I just hope I can figure out the ending because so far I’m not entirely sure where it’s going.
Once I’ve finished with that task, I peruse property in the three cities I like in California. I know purchasing a home can take a while, even with an all cash offer. So the sooner I start really looking, the better. That’s much easier to do now that I’m back in the States.
Though as I do, guilt eats away at me, spoiling the fun of it. How can I willingly turn my back on my family and disappear forever? It’s not fair to them. I’m just not sure how to make everyone happy, and give all of us what we need when our needs are so conflicting. I hate the idea of having to choose between my own happiness and the happiness of my family. It’s not fair.
My phone chimes at ten minutes to six in the evening. It’s Maximo. With a sigh, I swipe the screen to read his text.
Maximo:
If you’re thinking of being a bad girl and not showing up for dinner, I will have to punish you, bellissima.
I sit with this threat for half a second, my ire rising, before my fingers are tapping out a haughty reply. One much braver than I’d ever speak to his face.
Elena:
Oh yeah? How are you going to punish me?
Maximo:
You don’t want to know all the ways I’ve considered punishing you. Just be good and come to dinner.
Elena:
I think you’re lying. You would never touch me in anger.
Maximo:
Who said I’d be angry?
Elena:
You only punish people when you’re mad at them.
Maximo:
You don’t understand, cara mia.
Elena:
