Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“You won’t win with me, Helena.”
“I won’t give up without a fight, Sebastian.”
“Choose your battles wisely, then, or you’ll wear yourself out before we’ve even arrived on the battlefield.”
“We arrived on the battlefield the moment I was made to step onto the block to be poked and prodded as if I were cattle.”
“If you’re not careful, it won’t be a block I put you on.”
I stop, no comeback, his words from yesterday too fresh in my mind.
He’s referring to the whipping post.
Someone clears their throat, and Sebastian’s hand squeezes my elbow. “Helena, this is Remy. He’s a sort of butler. If you need something and can’t find me, you find him, understand?”
I turn to Sebastian, and I feel like he means more than he’s saying.
“Is he my ally too?” I ask.
“You’re wearing on me,” he says, introducing me to Remy, who smiles and bows.
He then walks me toward a swinging door that opens up into a very large kitchen. Blue-and-white tiles cover every wall, and there is a wood-burning stove where flatbread is puffing as it bakes.
The counters look to be concrete and very modern, like the appliances, and there’s a huge island where a cook is standing over the cooktop, stirring a pot. The scent coming from it makes my mouth water.
She’s older and has her gray hair tied back into a bun. She wipes her hands on the apron around her ample hips and nods her greeting.
“This is Miriam. She’s our cook.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, stepping closer to peek into the pot. “What is it?” I ask, even though I don’t want to appear interested in anything he has to show me.
She answers in Italian and, while he translates, dips a spoon into the broth and holds it out for me to taste. She makes a motion for me to blow on it, and I like her already.
“Stock for tonight’s soup,” Sebastian says. “It’s vegetarian. You’re a vegetarian, right?”
I glance at him, taken aback. “Yes. And it’s delicious,” I say, directing that last part to Miriam, who smiles proudly.
I don’t thank him for accommodating my diet.
“I’ll let you know where you’ll take your meals each day. If you miss a meal, you wait until the next one. Remember that.”
“Don’t skip meals, or I’ll be sent to bed without my supper. Got it.”
He smiles, and his hand grips my arm a little too tightly.
I follow him through the open door and into the bright sunshine. I stand in it for a minute, enjoying its rays, its warmth. From here, I can see in the distance that one of the three boats is gone. He follows my gaze.
“My family is off the island for the day.”
I turn to him. “When you said you dealt with your mother, what does that mean?”
“It means she’ll think twice about hurting you again. And to clarify, she’s my stepmother.”
Stepmother?
But before I can ask more, he’s guiding me away again.
“This way.”
We walk along the property, and I’m in awe. I’ve never seen something so serenely beautiful as Isola Anabelle. The grass is lush, the water surrounding it—the Adriatic, I believe—quiet and blue.
There’s a swimming pool that is calling to me. With three sisters, swimming was my time to be alone. It’s my haven, being beneath the surface. The pool is Olympic-size, and comfortable lounge chairs are situated along the circumference.
“Where is Venice proper?”
“About a fifteen-minute boat ride away.”
“And there’s no one else on this island but your family and the staff?”
“Correct.”
“Do they live here too, the staff?”
“Yes. That building there houses them.” He points to a smaller replica of the house, the stonework as beautiful as the main house, nestled in what appears to be a small outcrop of trees.
We turn back to the house, where I see what I think may be my favorite part, the patio. It’s a covered space with a large fireplace, a dining table that looks to seat about half what the one inside seats with big, comfortable chairs around it, and a sitting area with colorful pillows. Each area is separated by carpet, and overhead hangs a huge Moroccan lamp.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my eyes on everything, caught by it all, wanting to take it all in.
“The island isn’t very big, so you won’t get lost if you go for a walk, but you need to let someone know where you are at all times. The only part you’re not allowed to go to is the east side.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Which way is East? I have no sense of direction here.”
He takes my hand, surprising me, and walks me to the opposite edge of the house and points. It’s strange, but it’s almost as though it’s darker on that side of the island. Although I’m sure that’s not true. And from above the trees, I see the gray stone roof of a building.