“What if he dies?” I ask.
“He won’t die. I purposefully didn’t kill him. An asshole like him doesn’t go down easily. I’m getting you out of here.”
“Are you taking me back to my brother?” I ask with a hopeful gasp.
“Not right now. I need to ditch this car. Marco owns this car and it won’t be hard for him to find it. I need to get you somewhere he won’t get to you.”
“So take me to my brother.”
He hesitates. “Enzo will shoot me on sight. So for right now, let me get you somewhere safe Marco won’t find you and then we’ll go from there.”
“Am I still your prisoner?” When Will doesn’t respond, I ask again. “Am I still your prisoner?”
“I don’t know what you are,” he admits.
“So why did you save me back there?”
“Because I couldn’t stand the idea of you marrying a man you hate. I couldn’t let you be forced into it. I just couldn’t.”
“Why? Do you care for me? Or do you want to control me like everyone else does?”
He can’t give me an answer and that’s almost more terrifying than anything else.
Will doesn’t stop driving until we reach a parking garage. “Follow me.” He leaves Marco’s car behind and goes over to a nondescript white car. I go with him because my only other choice is to run and risk Marco finding me. It’s smarter to stay with Will, even if I’m still confused by him.
He breaks into the car with ease and gets it up and running.
“We can’t steal someone’s car,” I hiss.
“For your safety, we have to. I’ll buy something else after we get away. But Marco is still alive and I know he’s called for backup. More people will be coming for you. He isn’t a man who gives up easily. Now, get in the car.”
My eyes flick towards the stairwell of the parking garage. I could make a run for it.
And yet… Will did save me from Marco. He didn’t have to. He risked his life when he pointed that gun at Marco. That has to mean something.
Slowly, I get into the car and Will drives us out of the parking garage. He doesn’t stop driving until we reach a motel around an hour away from where the church is. “This will do for the night.”
“My wedding dress. It will draw attention.”
“Then we tell people we’re on our honeymoon.”
“To a motel?” I ask with a scrunch of my nose.
“I didn’t realize you were a snob.”
I flush. “I’m not. I just don’t think the story is plausible. I mean, I hate you. I would never marry you.”
“It’s just a story and it only needs to work for tonight. Now come on.”
We go to the front office where a man in a greasy, dirty shirt sits behind the counter. He doesn’t comment at all on my wedding dress as Will buys a room for us.
Once we’re inside the motel room, Will turns to me, his eyes raking over my dress. I feel the urge to cover myself while I also want him to look. It’s a confusing feeling.
“What now?” I ask.
“Now… I tie you to the bed.”
“What?” I ask, my heart rate spiking.
