“Sorry, but no. It’ll be transmitting a signal and I don’t want you traceable,” he says. “And if you have any kind of emergency, you’ll be very well taken care of.”
Clutching my purse to my chest, I shake my head. “But the Brunos will be expecting me to check in. They’ll get suspicious if I just go radio silent, so if you want to sell this happy little honeymoon ruse then I’m going to have to call them at some point and tell them that we’re—”
“On what honeymoon would the bride sneak away from her husband to go make contact?” he scoffs. “That wouldn’t even make sense. Trust me, they’ll have nothing to be suspicious about.”
“You don’t know what Sergio Bruno is like,” I insist. “He barely trusts me as it is.”
“I knowexactlywhat Sergio Bruno is like,” Armani says coldly. “Now give me the phone.”
“No.”
I realize it’s pointless to fight him on this, since he’ll have me physically restrained if I do refuse to hand the phone over, but some instinctive part of me is silently kicking and screaming about having to give up my one reliable tether to the real world.
He sighs impatiently. “There’s no cell service on the island, Candi. Even if you tried to make a call, it wouldn’t go through. All you’d be able to do is drain your battery and possibly compromise our location in the event that a cell tower somewhere on the mainland is able to catch your signal.”
He raises his brows at me and holds his hand out again.
“If there’s no service, then why do you need to take it?” I prod.
“Because sometimes, you can catch a bar of service if you climb to the top of Mount Verde, and I wouldn’t put it past you to try it. However, I encourage you to remember what I said about the guards watching you. And the instructions they’ve been given to keep you on the property at all costs.”
My stomach sinks. I’m going to be utterly trapped here. With no way to contact the outside world, no one to talk to. And if all the friends and family we have think we’re off on some romantic honeymoon, no one will suspect I’m actually being held here against my will.
And what about Juliana? My (former?) best friend knows that I eloped, but I didn’t invite her to the reception at the Bellanti estate and I definitely didn’t tell her that I was going on a honeymoon. Although even if I could reach her, I can’t very well tell her what’sreallygoing on. She still thinks I’m playing spy games for her uncle Sergio Bruno, that I conned Armani into marrying me to ingratiate myself even further with the Bellantis so I could dig up more intel. I can’t do or say anything to make her think otherwise, especially not admitting that I’ve been forced to go to an island—and take part in this marriage—against my will. If she knows I’m compromised, the Brunos have no reason not to kill me.
Reluctantly, I take my phone out of my bag and squeeze it tightly, all hope rapidly crumbling.
“Okay, you can have it,” I say, “but at least let me text my friends first. They’ll be worried sick once they realize I’ve dropped off the face of the earth. Even people in jail get a phone call.”
I give Armani my most pleadingest look, searching his eyes for some hint of compassion. If I can just talk to Juliana for even two minutes and tell her where I am (approximately), there’s a chance of me getting rescued. Or if not rescued, then at least avenged later if I do end up in a shallow jungle grave.
Armani huffs out an impatient breath. “I told you. There’s no service here.”
My eyes drop to my phone, and sure enough, it says No Service in the top corner of the screen.
“I can still send a text using the house Wi-Fi,” I protest.
“No. This is for your own safety,” he says sternly, ripping the phone out of my hands and tucking it into his pocket. “It’s not a punishment.”
“I see.”
Taking a slow breath, I move closer to him and reach for his tie. My fingers slide down the length of the silk before pressing flat against his abdomen. I never said that I wasn’t allowed to touchhim.
“The thing is, I just…really don’t want my friends to worry,” I purr, running my hands up his arms and then gently squeezing his biceps. “I’m sure you can understand that.”
I start to massage his shoulders. Tracking my gaze up to his eyes, I smile, stepping even closer, until our hips are touching. I can feel the bulge of my phone in his pants pocket. So close, yet so far away.
“Just one tiny little text?” I whisper seductively. “Please?”
I lean in to kiss him. Honestly, I can’t help it. I knew the minute I reached for his tie that I would come undone at the feel of him under my hands.
But Armani leans away from me, grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands off him.
“I don’t have time for this,” he says. “I have work to attend to.”
His tone is so cold and detached, it’s like getting a bucket of ice water dumped over me.
“Work? On what kind of honeymoon would the husband abandon his wife to go work?” I scoff, throwing his own words back at him.
