I haven’t spoken to Lina since before the wedding.
“I’m fine,” I say carefully. “We’re all fine.”
“Just fine? Anna, you married a billionaire and disappeared off the face of the earth. I need more than fine.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything with you is complicated. Look, I miss you. I know you’re busy with your new life and everything, but can we meet? Just for coffee? Catch up properly?”
I want to say no. Meeting Lina means leaving the estate, going back into the world outside these walls. It means questions I don’t want to answer and conversations I’m not ready to have.
But I’m so lonely. Six weeks of living in this massive house with a man who barely speaks to me except when we’re fighting or fucking. Six weeks of keeping my children away from everyone. Six weeks of isolation punctuated by violence and fear and constant vigilance.
I want to see someone who knew me before all of this. Someone who remembers Anna Kestrel instead of Anna Volkov.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Coffee sounds good.”
“Really? That’s amazing! How about tomorrow? There’s that café we used to go to on Maple Street. Is it still there?”
“I think so.”
“Perfect. Two o’clock? I’ll be there.”
We say goodbye, and I stand in the hallway staring at my phone. What did I just agree to?
The next afternoon, I’m getting ready to leave when Luca appears in my bedroom doorway. “Where are you going?” he asks.
I don’t look at him. Just continue putting on my earrings. “Out.”
“I can see that. Where?”
“To meet a friend for coffee. Is that allowed, or do I need your permission?”
“You don’t need my permission. But security goes with you.”
“Fine.”
He leans against the doorframe, watching me. We haven’t spoken much since the last time we hate-fucked a few days ago. My hips still have bruises from his hands. My neck has a mark I’m covering with makeup right now.
“Who’s the friend?” he asks.
“No one you know.”
“Anna.”
I turn to face him. “Her name is Lina. We’ve been friends since university. She wants to catch up. That’s all.”
“Fine. Be back by five. The twins will want dinner.”
“I’m aware of when my children eat.”
He studies me for another moment, then leaves without another word.
I finish getting ready and head downstairs. One of Luca’s drivers is already waiting with the car. A security guard I don’t recognize sits in the front passenger seat.
The drive to the café takes twenty minutes. I watch the city pass outside the window and try to remember the last time I went somewhere that wasn’t a doctor’s appointment or a forced appearance at one of Luca’s business dealings.
Six weeks. It’s been six weeks since I’ve done anything normal.
