13
Mina
Isplash cold water on my face and grip the edges of the sink, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hands are still shaking.
My fiancé is Cristiano Montoni.
The words echo in my skull, relentless and cruel. I can still see that ring glittering on Ariana Barone’s perfect hand. Can still feel the delicate bones of her shoulders beneath my fingers as I squeezed and squeezed without realizing what I was doing.
I’m going to be fired. I’m going to lose my job, and then I won’t be able to pay rent, and Leon and I will lose everything. I grab a towel and bury my face in it, stifling a sob.
No, Cristiano won’t fire me. That’s not how he operates. Firing me would create distance. He doesn’t want distance. He wants proximity. He wants me trapped in his hotel, working for him, dependent on his goodwill for my paycheck.
He’ll use this the way he uses everything. My humiliation, my fear, my vulnerability. He’ll swoop in and fix it. Make Arianaforgive me, make Gloria praise me, make me grateful to him for saving my job. A kindness I can’t refuse. Another bar in the cage.
A commotion from the front of the spa cuts through my spiraling thoughts. Raised voices. The elevator chime.
I open the bathroom door and peer down the hallway toward reception.
Cristiano steps out of the elevator, his face like thunder.
My throat tightens.
He’s here. Of course he’s here. His fiancée was just assaulted by a massage therapist in his hotel, and he’s come personally to deal with it.
“Where is she?” His voice carries down the hallway, clipped and commanding. He’s dressed in black pants and shiny leather shoes, and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back past his elbows as though he stood straight up from his desk just moments ago.
Ariana is at the front desk, her manicure apparently finished, reaching for her purse. She turns at the sound of his voice, her expression shifting to something placating. “I’m here, Cristiano. I’m fine, really. You didn’t have to—”
“Where’s Mina?” He walks past Ariana without looking at her. His eyes are scanning the salon, searching for me.
Ariana’s serene expression morphs to shock, and she stares after him, open-mouthed.
My blood turns to ice.
Where’s Mina?Not,Are you all right, Ariana?Not,What happened?He walked past his fiancée like she was furniture.
I should feel vindicated. Instead, I feel the noose tightening.
This is what he wants me to see. This is the performance, the proof that she means nothing, that I mean everything.
And it’s working. God help me, some small, vicious part of me isgladhe ignored her.
Gloria steps forward, her professional composure barely intact. “Mr. Montoni. Mina is unavailable at the present moment, but if you want to follow me to my office—”
Cristiano’s gaze snaps to the hallway.
To me.
Our eyes meet, and his expression shifts from thunderous to raw and urgent.
He starts toward me.
I don’t wait to find out what Cristiano wants. I bolt. I need to collect my bag and get the hell out of here.
The break room is three doors down. I make it inside and close the door, my chest heaving, my mind racing. Maybe he didn’t see where I went. Maybe he’ll walk past.
The door swings open.
