Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“And why are you here and not there, bella?” Tosca asks gently.
I take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.
Then I tell them everything. How he pretended he didn’t know me. The familiarity in his eyes, quickly masked by anger and a flinty look.
“Ahh,” Tosca says, nodding. “I see.”
“You see what?” My voice quavers. “Because I don’t see anything at all.”
Tosca and Nonna share another look.
“When he left, you were a girl,” Tosca says gently, as if carefully choosing her words. “He came home… to a woman.”
I look down at my hands. “I don’t think that’s it at all.” I wish that was it.
“Then what do you think it is?”
I don’t want to talk about this. I have the sudden urge to shut the whole conversation down.
I shake my head. “I have no idea. I just know it wasn’t the reunion I imagined. I needed… space.” I sigh. “I needed to get away.”
“Of course,” Tosca says pragmatically. “You stay as long as you like.”
I change the subject and talk about her grandkids, how everyone’s growing and where they all are now, while I ignore the buzzing on my phone. Eventually, I’ll have to excuse myself but for now, I like not being at anyone’s beck and call.
Finally, I yawn widely, hopefully giving them the hint that I need to get to bed.
“You get some rest, Starla,” Tosca says. “Let’s get you to your room.”
It feels good to flop on the bed where I discovered who Starla Soul really was. Here, under the protection of the Montavios and the hospitality of the Rossis, I left behind the broken girl who had no voice, and excavated who I really am. It’s comforting to remember that.
I take out my phone and decide it’s time to face the music.
Staring at the insane number of notifications, messages, and emails, I cringe.
Eden.
Sergio.
And at least fifty more. I groan and reschedule the interview I was supposed to do tonight, then as graciously as possible, I respond to every other message in my inbox.
It’s good to play hard to get sometimes.
Do Sergio and Eden know you’re hiding something?
Of course Timeo would say that.
Feeling guilty, I finally open the message from Eden.
I’m sorry if it was hard seeing Timeo. You need to come home.
I needed space, and I’m in my second home, safe and sound. I know for a fact there’s security up the wazoo here.
Sergio’s cousin Romeo, Tosca’s oldest son, would’ve seen to that.
Maya:
Babe, we have a really, really big problem. Like REALLY BIG
I roll my eyes. Maya is such a drama queen. A “really big problem” might mean that she’s down to her last tube of lip gloss and Sephora’s closed for the night due to impending snow.
What? What’s the problem?
Someone’s leaked footage they have of you. They don’t know who you are yet but there’s a grainy pic of your face that popped up online. I’ve done my best to keep my line presence anonymous, but now…
I stare. I blink.
Shit. This is way, way worse than I thought.
WHAT?! HOW?!
I knoooowww OMG I can’t even. Just ignore it, these things always pass
Oh my God. That’s easy for her to say.
I file it away to worry about later, and swipe through the rest of the messages. Nothing I don’t get every day. I’ve got a team that helps me filter through the thousands of fan messages I get, but lots make it through to my main profile. I’m checking my dash appreciatively when another message comes through.
Babe, I know that you weren’t exactly planning on leaving that interview halfway through, but let me tell you, the buzz around the web was worth it. People are TALKING. I’m not sure if there’s a single more interesting story than yours right about now.
Is that a good thing?
I’m honestly just not so sure anymore.
I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to perform for anyone. I don’t want to answer to anyone.
I’ve worked my ass off since I left the fellowship to be left alone, and that’s exactly where I want to be. Ironic, really, considering my current mode of employment. But that’s well within my control.
I power off my phone and whip it into a drawer. When I slide the drawer shut, I pretend it means it’s gone for good.
I lie on the bed, my eyes heavy. I’m so tired I could fall asleep right here, fully clothed.
When I close my eyes, I can still see him, glaring at me as if wishing I’d go away. The clench of his jaw and the steel in his eyes warning me that he isn’t the same person as when he left.
How convenient. Neither am I.
I curl up on my side, then remain as still as I can be at the sound of voices down the hall. My home in The Castle, nestled on the first floor close to the kitchen, is only paces away from the main entryway. Tosca’s voice catches my attention.