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)
“He’ll show you the way,” Stefan says.
I’m pretty sure I can find the ladies’ room but fine. I drop it and go inside. In the bathroom, I stand at the sink and look at my reflection. I brush my hair away to look at the bruise, remember what happened. Remember what Rafa said about Stefan not letting me out again and I understand that even better now.
I belong to him.
I am a thing that belongs to that man.
It’s not so different from before, is it? Then, I belonged to my father. Now, I belong to Stefan Sabbioni.
“Suck it up, Buttercup,” I say out loud.
Gabe used to say that. He still does sometimes, but now it’s because it rhymes, and he finds it funny. Then it was his way of telling me something wasn’t important enough to fight for. To save my strength for the battles that matter.
I wash my hands, dry them and return to our table.
Stefan stands, pulls my chair out.
I sit and that’s when I notice the box wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it on my still empty plate.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Open it.”
A breeze chills me and I shudder.
Stefan drapes his jacket, which is on the back of my chair, over my shoulders again.
I pull the ribbon from the box and watch the bow unravel. It’s a pretty blue-green ribbon. Sea foam, I think. I pick up the box and rip off the paper and am surprised—shocked, actually—to find a brand-new iPhone inside.
I look up at Stefan.
“If you don’t like the color, we can swap it out,” he says.
I look back at it. It’s rose gold. It could be poop brown and I wouldn’t care.
When I shift my gaze back to his, he’s still watching me.
“Why?” I ask, any more words catching in my throat. I feel strange. Caught off guard. I don’t know what to make of it. How to react.
“Figured it’d be easier to text Alex. Or call your brother. FaceTime and see him rather than using the land line in the library.”
I feel my face heat up. He knew?
I sit back, let his jacket swallow me up. I don’t know what to say. I look down at the box in my lap.
My father wouldn’t allow me to have a phone. He wouldn’t have allowed me to talk to Alex if he knew. He managed my visits to Gabe. He controlled every aspect of my life. Every single thing, no matter how inconsequential.
And I want to cry.
It’s probably the stupidest reaction, but I feel my eyes filling up.
I’m grateful when Lorenzo returns with menus and I can turn away. I use the heel of my hand to wipe a tear from my eye and force myself to sit up. To not be a fucking baby. It’s probably bugged for all I know.
But it’s a phone.
I turn to Stefan who is pretending to read the menu. Giving me space. Maybe not wanting to embarrass me.
I’ve embarrassed myself enough with him, haven’t I?
“Thank you,” I say simply.
“You’re welcome.” He holds his hand out and I hand him the box. He opens it, takes it out. “It’s already set up. This is your number. Mine is programmed here. This is the house, and this is Rafa. This one is if you ever need someone and can’t get hold of us. It calls the guard house. Do you know how to use it?”
“I’ve been denied but I don’t live under a rock.” I hit the safari button and am instantly on line. “Are you going to monitor it?”
He smiles and this smile, it makes his eyes sparkle. “Are you going to visit any adult sites I need to monitor?”
“No. God!”
He laughs out loud at my reaction and I realize he was joking. It makes me smile.
“It’s exactly what it appears to be. No strings. Use it as you like. And just remember the gesture, Gabriela. I don’t have to be your enemy. I don’t want to be.”
I look at it again, then back up at him. “You knew I was calling Gabe?”
He nods.
“You know about him then? I mean, you know how he is?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
His expression darkens and he gestures to the menu. “Let’s talk about that later. I want to have a nice night. Do you know what you want?” he asks.
I scan the menu, nod.
He’s watching me when I look back up at him and when Lorenzo comes, he gestures for me to order.
I do.
In Italian.
And I realize something.
The menu was a test. Or he already knew I spoke the language. I wonder when he might have figured it out.
“You knew that too?” I ask when Lorenzo is gone.
He nods again.
“Anything else?”
“A few things,” he says.
His phone rings before I can press and his brows furrow together. He takes it. As soon as he does, his face darkens and he stands, setting his napkin on the table and walking away. He’s out of earshot but I hear his raised voice, at least momentarily raised. He kicks at a nearby table leg and I’m not the only one watching him now.