Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
I wake up tangled in Adrian's silk sheets, swim with him in the clear, blue infinity pool, and share meals on the terrace with him by candlelight. We never speak of my father, or my old life, or what the future holds. The present is so delicious and addictive, there's no reason to.
So what if the television is always off? So what if I have no phone and no way to access the internet or the outside world in any way? So what if the people from my old life think I'm dead, or that I sometimes feel more like Adrian's pretty plaything than his partner?
All of those thoughts can be easily put away to be dealt with in the future. I trick myself into thinking that if I ignore them hard enough, eventually they'll disappear.
What I can't ignore, though, is that Adrian is dangerous. Never to me, but I hear the harsh, cutting sound of his voice when he has to take a call in his office or on the terrace. I might not speak Italian, but violence drips from his words nonetheless. Sometimes, when he comes home from 'work', there is the smallest splatter of blood on his white shirt, or the acrid smell of gunpowder around him when he bends down to kiss me. And it's his casualness about it all that makes my heart thump against my ribs. He can wash off another man's blood and then order gelato for dessert like nothing happened. I'm more terrified of his ability to compartmentalize like that than I am of the violence itself.
This is the man that I'm falling for. Hard. He is possessive and demanding, but he's also the only person in my life who has ever seemed to see me. He asks about my education and my passions, buying me expensive art supplies and letting me paint and sketch to my heart's content. It's a far cry from working in art restoration or as a curator, but it's the best he can do while still keeping me in my little bubble.
All of the things I've been holding on to finally boil to the surface when he comes back to the villa late once more. He's as gentle with me as ever, but the question still spills out before he can kiss me the way he always does as soon as he walks in.
"Is anyone looking for me?" When he rears back in surprise, I follow up with, "Will I ever be able to leave the villa without you, Adrian?" A hint of my old self surfaces. The girl who used to stand up to her father's bullying, even if it never did much good. "Am I going to die here?"
Adrian pulls back from me slowly, expression suspicious, and he doesn't answer for a long time. When he does, it's a single, quiet question of his own. "Is that what you want, Elena? To leave?" He doesn't sound angry, just...curious. I can't bear the thought of telling him yes, not when it would break whatever this spell is between us.
So I say nothing at all.
That seems to be answer enough for him.
"Your father filed a missing person's report," he says finally, his voice a low, even cadence. "It was on the news for two days. The whole world was looking for the missing debutante." He says the word debutante like it's something filthy. "Then I contacted him."
He turns and walks to the bar, pours himself a scotch. He doesn't offer me any. "I told him who I am. I told him I have his precious daughter. And I told him that if he doesn't drop the investigation, if he even thinks about sending anyone after me, I will go through with my original plan. I will destroy him. Piece by piece. And he'll live long enough to see everything he ever had crumble to the ground. Long enough to see his daughter at my side, for good."
I feel cold all over, my fingers and toes tingling with the shock of it. I was a pawn all over again, even after he promised me this thing between us was so much more than revenge. My father just gave up. He didn't try to bargain. He didn't try to rescue me. He just folded to save his own skin while Adrian gloated that I was his.
"How do you know he dropped it?" My voice sounds to me like it's coming from somewhere far away.
"Because I told him to, and because Laurent is a coward." He takes a slow sip of his drink, unbothered, like we're talking about the weather or something. "He's already told the media you were taking a mental health sabbatical."
"He just...stopped looking for me? He just let me go?"
Adrian is still stiff, but when he speaks, there's an edge of softness. Or pity. I can't tell. "What did you expect, Elena? He's scrambling to find another way to pull himself out of the hole now that his daughter can't marry a cash cow anymore." Adrian throws back the rest of the drink and sets the glass down hard, his control hanging by a thread. "I can't talk about this anymore tonight, Elena. I'm going to shower. I'll see you at dinner."