Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I lift my gaze to meet his. “Get your hands off me.”
His eyes narrow. “I already told you, I’ll touch you whenever and wherever I please. Remember, respect is a two-way street, Princess. Now answer my question. And be careful, Gabriela.”
“No,” I bite through gritted teeth.
“No what?”
“No, you didn’t make a mistake.”
It’s another minute before he pulls his hand away and another until he stands, and I see how the muscles flex when he lifts his arm to run his fingers through his hair, his expression annoyed or ruffled or something.
“Get packed and ready to go. You’re leaving.”
18
Gabriela
He shipped me back to the house in Palermo before lunchtime. Stefan and Rafa, and presumably Clara, stayed behind. I guess they’re spending the day in Rome shopping and having fun and doing whatever the fuck it is they do.
But true to his word, he gave me back my iPod and the fake passport and I text Alex as soon as I’m alone to make sure he and his aunt are okay.
He tells me Stefan sent someone to fix their door and that they’re fine.
That surprises me. Why would Stefan do that?
But then again, he did break it so why shouldn’t he? This doesn’t make him a saint or something.
I spend the day on my own and this time, I put on one of the bikinis, a simple yellow one, and sit on the edge of the pool to stay cool. I take a long nap in the afternoon and have dinner on my own and by nine in the evening, I’m bored and fed up.
From the patio, I can see the lights of Palermo and if I listen hard enough, I think I hear music on the beach but I’m probably imagining that.
I find Miss Millie in the kitchen. “I need something to do,” I tell her. “Can I go for a walk or something?” I hate asking permission like this, but it was the same at home.
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“Just a quick one. Maybe—”
“What about a book?” she asks.
“A book?” I love reading but I finished what I brought, and I haven’t seen so much as a magazine in the house. Stefan doesn’t strike me as the reading type.
“I don’t think you’ve seen the library. Come on.”
I follow her. “There’s a library?”
She smiles. “Well, it’s small but maybe you’ll find something to occupy your time.”
I’m surprised to see her take out her keys to unlock the door to the library, which makes me wonder why it’s locked at all. But as soon as we’re inside, I realize.
So much for Stefan not wanting to isolate me.
“This is great,” I say, looking around, pretending I don’t see the phone on the far table.
Miss Millie pulls the curtains open. “He should open this up,” she says under her breath.
“It’s a beautiful room.”
“It’s where Laura, Stefan’s mother, spent most of her days. She got bored too, what with Antonio and the boys always attending to business. I think it holds a lot of memories for Stefan. He used to love coming in here with her when he was little.”
“I understand,” I say, running my fingers along the spines on a shelf. “Is it okay if I borrow a few?” I ask her, hoping to hide my excitement at my discovery of the phone. “I take good care of books and—”
“Don’t be silly. Of course, you can. It’ll be good for someone to use Laura’s library. She’d have preferred that over leaving the books to sit unread and unloved collecting dust on a shelf.”
“Thank you, Miss Millie.”
“I’m glad to see your spirits lifted.” She smiles at me. “He’s not a bad man, you know. Just had a hard life.”
I just smile back because haven’t we all? I don’t and won’t feel pity for Stefan Sabbioni.
She doesn’t close the door when she leaves and as much as I want to run to the phone and make my call, I don’t. I need to be patient. If she catches me, she won’t let me in here again.
But there’s enough to occupy me.
I take three books off the shelves and curl up in one of the armchairs but before opening the first, I notice a large, leather-bound photo album on the lower shelf of the table between the chairs.
Leaning down, I pick it up, and note how it’s not dusty in here so they must clean it regularly even if it is unused.
I wonder when the last time someone opened this was because it almost creaks when I open it.
The photos inside are older, some yellowing a little. Not the quality of photos now but as I flip through the pages and read the hand-written captions underneath each picture, I realize this is Stefan’s mom. Laura. His father I recognize from photos on the internet, but he’s much younger in these.