She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she goes into the room, and the door closes with a quiet click without a word.
I stand in the corridor for another three seconds.
Then I go to the study and close the door. I sit behind the desk in the dark and don’t turn the lamp on. I don’t look at the files. I press both hands over my face.
The cut on my ribs pulls when I breathe.
I leave my hands where they are.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GIA
“Stop fucking ringing for a second.” I groan into my hand.
I sit on the edge of the bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets bunched beneath my fists, staring at the drawer. The morning light is a flat, unapologetic grey, cutting through the curtains like a blade. My skin feels too tight for my bones. Every time I close my eyes, I see the dark stain on Rafael.
And then. I see the twelve-minute gap I gave my father.
The vibration is like a mechanical snarl that vibrates through the wood of the vanity table and straight into my veins. My heart is beating like a trapped bird slamming itself against a cage of glass.
If I don’t die by Rafael’s hands, I’ll die of a heart attack.
I stand up. My legs feel like they belong to a stranger as I cross the room and open the box. The velvet lining gives way at the corner, revealing the small, cheap burner phone. The screen glows with a malevolent blue light.
“Report. NOW. Laura is asking why her big sister has forgotten her. DO NOT Disappoint.”
That fucking bastard!
My fingers tighten against the phone in equal parts anger and fear.
He’s using her as bait. He knows exactly where to slide the knife to make me bleed. If I don't answer, he’ll make her suffer. If I do answer, I’m digging Rafael’s grave with my own thumbs.
My thumb hovers over the keypad. “Rafael is suspicious,” I should type. “He’s looking for a rat.”
But my hands are shaking so violently the phone nearly slips from my grip. I think about Rafael kneeling on the stone to put the slippers on my feet. I think about the way he didn't touch me in the bathroom when he could have taken everything.
I power the phone off.
I can't do it. Not today. I’ll pay for this silence later, I know I will, but right now I can’t do this.
The silence that follows is deafening. I shove the phone back into its hiding place, my breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. My heart is a frantic percussion against my ribs, and suddenly, the room feels like it’s shrinking. The scent of cedar and expensive soap—Rafael’s scent—is everywhere. It’s in the sheets, in the air, clinging to my own skin.
I’m suffocating.
I need to get out. I need to be somewhere that doesn't smell like him.
I grab my personal phone with trembling fingers, my vision blurring for a second. I find Isabella’s name and type a message so fast I barely check the spelling.
I need to get out for an hour. Are you free? Please.
I toss the phone onto the bed and pace the small length of the rug, my pulse throbbing in my ears. A second later, it pings.
Of course girl, the cafe in the old district. One hour. See you soon.
I don’t remember going to the café but after twenty minutes I am there.
The place is a small, tucked-away jewel in the old district, all wrought iron and the smell of roasted beans. It’s too normal. It’s too bright.
