“Probably because your windows don’t face this way,” Chiara says.“And this is a really small and contained piece of the garden.This path and the fountain area at the end is all I get.I’ve asked him to at least cut the grass, but he hasn’t yet.Not that I want anything from him.”
We’ve reached the spot she mentioned, a circular area with a small pond and fountain in the center.The fountain is shaped like a beautiful woman with long hair and a flowing dress, but no water is flowing through the flower-shaped bowl she’s holding in her hands.There is water in the pond itself, but it’s all covered with gunky-looking green algae.
Chiara stops right by the fountain.“There’s goldfish in here, I think.Under all the green crap.I told him he should clean it, but he clearly didn’t do that either.”
I peer into the pond and maybe I do see something bright orange moving under the green gunk.Or I just want to.
“It’s good that you can at least ask for things,” I say.
She scoffs so loudly it echoes over the trees.“Are you giving up, Gia?Are you saying we should just make the best of our situation?Find the positives?”
I’m glad to hear that fire in her voice, even if her words cut deep.“I’m not saying that!”
“Good, because I’m not giving up,” she says.“They’ll all pay for what they did to us.”
The men who followed us here aren’t anywhere to be seen, but I feel their presence is the darkness cast by the overgrown garden.
“I’m sure Dad will come for us soon,” I say.“With an army.”
“Or he won’t,” she says, giving me that look she always gives when she wants someone to stop talking.It’s as sharp as a knife.“We’ll just have to get ourselves out of this mess.”
“How?”I ask, keeping my voice low, but not whispering, because whispers carry.I don’t know where I learned that, probably some movie I watched.Right now, I wish I’d watched more action thriller type movies, because I’m sure those would have prepared me for all this a lot better.As it is, all I ever watched were romantic movies and romance got us into this mess.How could I not have known what Matteo was plotting?We were so attuned to each other!Or I just thought we were.
“Don’t know yet, but I’m sure there’ll be an opening,” Chiara says, and I cringe, because she’s talking much too loudly.They can probably hear her all the way back at the house.“We just have to be ready and seize it.Because I won’t live my life as a prisoner.I’d rather die.”
That cuts me deep too.Imagining my sister dead.Not what I need on top of everything else I have to process.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I say, trying to make light of the whole thing.
“It might, but I’m not going down alone,” she stares into the trees as she says it and isn’t keeping her voice down at all.I have the distinct feeling she’s no longer speaking just to me.Maybe it’s been that way this whole time.
A moment later two men come crashing through the tall grass and thick undergrowth.One of them is her husband.
“That’s enough,” he says.“Time to go back inside.And no more privileges until you learn to behave.”
“So, no more privileges, ever.Is what you’re saying?”she snaps at him.“Because I’ll never behave.”
He grabs her arm and starts pulling her down the path, the long dress she’s wearing getting tangled up in her feet.She’d fall if he wasn’t holding her so tight.
“Don’t hurt her, you monster!”I yell at him and rush after them.But don’t get far before a pair of arms grabs me too.
“Let me go,” I say, thrashing around.“He can’t just drag my sister away like that.He’ll hurt her, I have to help, I have to?—”
“You have to stop shouting and making a scene,” Matteo hisses in my ear.Clearly, he knows about keeping his voice low.
I knew it was him that grabbed me.I’d always know his touch anywhere.And it’s probably where I got the courage to fight and scream.
I scream again now, turning my face to the sky and letting it all out.The way my voice echoes over the canopy makes me sound like a monster.
“Calm down, Goldie,” Matteo whispers warningly.“You’re on thin ice here.You and your sister.”
“Good, I wish it would break,” I snap at him as I try to rip my arms free of his grasp.
He responds by holding me even tighter, wrapping me in a hug that’s almost as tight as the one my sister gave me.
“No, you don’t.”His lips are so close to my ear as he says it that a shiver runs down my core.The kind of shiver that only comes from anticipating his kiss.Why?Why is it so hard to just hate him?
“We’ll let them get ahead and then follow,” he says.“And you’ll need to learn to behave too.Or we’re all dead.”
