Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I had no choice. For now.
The box was filled with books, and I fitted the lid back, carrying it down the hall to the room Roman told me to make over as mine. I planned on some shelves for all my books. When I could afford it, I went to book shows, met my favorite authors, and had my books signed. Often, I had to pick them up at used bookstores, but with the added signature, it made them so special to me. This box contained Stephanie Rose and Carrie Elks books—two of my favorite authors.
I opened another box, pleased to discover my sweater. I gasped in delight at seeing my old cell phone and charger they had tossed into the box. Roman had given me a brand-new fancy one, but this one had some pictures and phone numbers I could transfer over. I plugged it into an outlet and went back to unpacking a few more boxes.
I paused after a while, surprised to see I had been at it a couple of hours. I had carried a few boxes down the hall, put some of my old clothes into the massive closet, and started a box for charity.
I sat down and sipped at some cold water. Roman’s—well, our—closet held a small fridge constantly stocked with water, and I was grateful for it.
My phone was charged, and I noticed my voice mail was full. I sat down and listened to it. Most were from Margi and Anne when I went missing, worried and concerned. I had seen them last week, and we’d had coffee one day when Roman took me to the casino. They thought it was so romantic he didn’t want to be without me. I didn’t try to explain to them, preferring that they chose to think Roman had swept me off my feet.
The last message, though, had me on my feet in horror.
I dropped my phone to the floor, backing away as if the phone would bite me.
The message continued to play, the voice droning on in that familiar, nasal tone that always made me tense.
“So, dear sister, I heard the funniest rumor,” Marianne spat out. “The news is that you married Roman Costas today. I was certain I had heard wrong. I mean, what would a strong, powerful man like him want with a loser like you?”
There was a pause.
“Did he tell you, Effie? Did he tell you what he did?”
ROMAN
I was out of the car before it had even stopped in the driveway. I headed inside, Nonna greeting me.
“Where is she?”
She shook her head, wringing her hands. “She went outside for a walk. Over an hour ago, Roman.”
“But it’s cold. Raining. Why would she go outside?”
“She refused to listen to me.” Nonna grabbed my elbow. “She was so white, almost in shock. Something spooked her, but she refused to say anything. You must find her.” She indicated the back of the house. “She is out there.”
I took off running, everything in me tight and distraught. What could have happened that upset Effie so much? Outside, I headed toward the vineyards, almost stumbling when I saw her. Standing in between a row of vines, not moving, the rain pelting down, harder now than only a minute ago. I raced toward her, shouting her name. She turned, seeing me, pure fear skittering across her face. She began to run, slipping on the grass, falling and getting up, going as quickly as she could.
I roared in frustration, not understanding.
Why was she running?
What the fuck had happened?
Why was my wife so scared of me?
I caught up to her faster than she expected. I grasped her arm, spinning her around.
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt me.”
I stepped back, shocked. “Effie,” I pleaded. “I would never hurt you.”
“Why,” she sobbed. “Why would you do it?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. But she was wet, shivering, and overwrought. I bent and scooped her into my arms, not letting her go even when she struggled. I headed straight to our room, setting her on her feet in the bathroom. She hung her head, the way her shoulders bowed making me think of the night I had dragged her out of that awful basement.
Not even waiting until the water warmed, I pulled her into the shower. I didn’t give a shit if my shoes and suit were ruined. I let the cold water spray on my back until it heated then I turned, letting the warmth saturate her clothing. I waited until I felt her shivers stop before stripping her of her clothing, then doing the same to mine. I kicked the wet material to the side of the shower. She never looked up, and her fists remained clenched. When I knew she was warm, I shut off the water and wrapped a towel around her. I dried her off then myself. I draped my robe around her, wanting her to have the material to nestle into. I led her to our room and pushed her gently into a chair and poured a hefty glass of brandy. She sipped the fiery liquid, grimacing. I tossed it back, set the empty glass on the table and took her trembling hands in mine.