Realizing that makes me almost as uneasy as facing the reality that my family isn’t safe right now, and that I have no idea when we will be.
13
CANDI
I’m halfway through lunch—adelicious array of sushi prepared by my new favorite chef, Idris—when, out of nowhere, Armani says, “Let’s go to the beach after we eat.”
He suggests this causally, as if we’re accustomed to making plans on a Sunday afternoon.
Lowering my chopsticks, I scrutinize his face for signs of furtiveness or deceit.
“To do what, exactly?” I ask, suspicion pumping in my veins.
“To feel the sand between our toes, to watch the waves, to…I don’t know. Take advantage of the fact that we’re the only guests here?”
“Yeah. That’s the part I’m worried about,” I tell him pointedly. “There will be no one around to hear me scream.”
I push my plate away. As good as the spicy tuna rolls are, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. A sense of impending doom will do that to you.
Armani spreads his hands in a gesture of openness that I really don’t buy, saying, “Look, I promise that nothing is going to happen to you. Let’s just…try to enjoy the day.”
As I study his gaze, I see something spark in his eyes. I wish I knew what it was.
“Swear you won’t lay a hand on me,” I say.
As if it matters. As if he can’t just lie to my face right now and erase me later anyway.
“I swear I won’t lay a hand on you,” he says, and then adds, “at least, not in any way that you don’t want me to.”
He sounds sincere, but at the same time, our conversation over dinner last night was hardly reassuring. Nothing he said made me feel any better about my position in this marriage, or my dispensability. And now he suddenly wants to go for a romantic walk on the beach? How can I trust it?
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I say. “So fine. We’ll go.”
His brows knit together. “I’m not trying to force you, but we’re heading home in a few more days. I thought it would be nice to get some vacation out of this vacation, that’s all.”
“I said fine. I’ll go change.”
The suit I brought is a tomato-red bikini with cute bows on the shoulders. Not super flashy or anything, but the color still makes me feel like a walking target. I pull on a tie-dyed coverup dress and grab my sandals and a floppy hat.
Minutes later, we’re walking on the path that leads through the rear of the villa property all the way to the beach. The sun-warmed tropical flowers are sweetly fragrant, the cool shade of the trees making the short hike a pleasant one, unlike my marathon trek up to Mount Verde. It’s beautiful, serene. Armani seems to be enjoying the walk as well. In his board shorts and tight T-shirt, there’s nowhere for him to hide a weapon. I start to let my guard down a little.
We crest a hill and my breath catches in my throat. I’m utterly dazzled.
Pristine white sand spreads out before us, endless blue-green water glimmering beyond, not a single boat on the horizon to mar the perfect view. The island’s coastline curves away in both directions, leaving us in a perfect little half-moon shaped bay.
Puffy white clouds drift overhead, the breeze tossing my hair. It’s all so soothing. I can’t help sighing out a long, contented breath. Armani passes me his water bottle, and I take a few sips from it. He’s been drinking the same water this whole time and he’s fine, so I’m not worried.
After I hand it back, Armani gently takes my hand in his, shocking the hell out of me.
When I glance over, I see him gazing pensively out at the waves.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
He’s lying. Something is weighing heavily on his mind. I don’t think it’s me, though. I have a feeling this has to do with whatever is waiting for us when we get back home to Napa.
“Did you find out something new about the Brunos? Do they have a plan to move against your family soon?” I prod.
