Mercifully, a car door opening before gravel underfoot jolts me back to reality.
It’s a struggle, but I control my breathing so I can maintain my lie that I’m asleep.
Giovanni’s cologne is still dominant, so Valeria must have exited the car. Though I’d rather not possess this skill, I can feel the tension radiating off him. Beneath his anger and frustration, a darker, unidentifiable feeling seethes within him. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s extremely suffocating.
It’s a fight not to sigh in relief when Giovanni intervenes with Valeria’s plan to make me the villain of her story. “Valentina will stay on the main floor. Put her in the room next to mine.”
The air crackles with tension during a brief pause, and I hear Valeria’s back molars grinding together. “That isn’t necessary. The attic is?—”
“I said, put her in the room next to mine. I want her close.”
“The staff?—”
“I don’t care about the staff,” Giovanni snaps, his voice a roar. “She isn’t to be hidden away like a dirty fucking secret. She is to stay on the main floor. End of discussion.”
Silence falls, thick and resolute, as a peculiar blend of relief and humiliation melds through me. I’m glad I won’t be imprisoned like a monstrous creature, yet I feel degraded that my destiny was determined without my consent.
I’m not a piece of furniture they can move and rehome at their convenience.
The reality of the situation settles over me like a heavy blanket. Every decision about my life is being made by someone else. Even the smallest things—where I’ll sleep, who I’ll see—are out of my hands.
Forget that. I’m my own person, and they have no right to steer the course of my destiny.
I stabilize my breathing, then slide my hand toward the doorkeeping me upright. The handle feels cool in my palm as I test if the door is locked. A soft click signals that it is unlocked.
I inhale deeply to prepare my lungs for the exertion they’re about to undertake, but before I can make a break for it, Giovanni’s warning has me torn on whether I should run away from him or to him. “You can run, Valentina. But remember, when I catch you, I get to fuck you.”
I freeze as my heart hammers in my chest—and several inches lower.There’s no point pretending now, so instead, I push against the restraints. I’m not a prisoner, and I refuse to allow my lust-crazed head to treat me like one.
Adrenaline surges through me when I fling open my door, slip out of my seat, and then break into a sprint. I gasp for air in short, broken breaths as I weave through the endless lemon groves bordering the Caruso estate. The trees are heavy with fruit, as if overdue to be harvested, and their waxy leaves glisten under the moonlight.
Grass tickles my ankles as I race across the uneven and squishy ground, and my lungs scream for a quick breather, but I can’t slow down. Behind me, I hear loud, breathless pants. They could be from guards who protect properties like this one, but I’m reasonably sure they belong to Giovanni. The thudding of my pulse tells me this, not to mention the dampness between my legs.
When I merge deeper into the shadows of the trees, hopeful they’ll conceal me from the moonlit sky, branches whip at my arms and legs. I push through the pain, desperate for freedom.
When the light from a flashlight slices through the darkness, I flatten my back against a large trunk and finally answer the demands of my screaming lungs.
I’ve barely caught my breath when my panic recedes. The guard is armed, but seemingly unaware of my attempt to escape. He doesn’t reward me a second glance.
Still, I duck low before slipping past him unnoticed.
The perfume of fresh lemons crushed underfoot streams into my nose when I recommence my sprint two rows later.
The further I run, the more my calves burn, but I refuse to let fear win.
Or is it excitement?
As I reach a clearing, Giovanni calls my name. The heavy, deliberate steps that accompany his chant indicate that he’s close to catching me.
I should be terrified, but I’m not. Giovanni is a force of nature. He’s dangerous and unpredictable, but as his stomps drown out my thudding heart, my fear transforms into something else.
A strange exhilaration rises from being chased, and it fills me with feral disregard.
As I emerge from the orchard, the moonlight halos my locks, announcing my location.
Giovanni reaches me in less than a nanosecond. One of his arms wraps around my waist to haul me against his chest, while the other cushions our fall when he tackles me to the ground.
Even though none of the sweat covering me is from fear, I fight him with all I have. I kick and twist, yet he pins me to the rain-soaked earth as if I weigh nothing.
