Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
At the very least, I’d have to go overboard on our wing of the house and in the bedroom.
Natalia returned, not with cake, but with two plates full of food. She set one in front of me, avoiding my eyes as she sat. “You didn’t eat dinner yet?” I asked.
“I was going to skip it.”
In lieu of another multi-course dinner, I’d asked Fisker to prepare two balanced meals since we weren’t staying long. I’d assumed Natalia had already eaten hers.
“I can appreciate cake for dinner,” I said carefully, trying for amenable where I could afford it, “but the chef says you had mostly salad, wine, and dessert while I was away.”
“You’re keeping tabs on what I eat?”
“I want you to build strength.” If she noticed the pomegranate that I’d requested on her plate, she kept it to herself. I pointed my fork at her food. “So, eat your chicken. What else did you do while I was away?”
She took a bite. “I’m sure you watched from your ivory tower. I can’t imagine it was very entertaining, seeing as I mostly just wandered around the house.”
“You’re bored. Noted.” She needed company, and I’d get her some, though it might be a reminder she should be careful what she wished for.
“Alejandro showed me the panic room.” She hesitated, presumably deciding whether to ask about what she’d seen downstairs. “I saw what was in the basement. That . . . that warehouse room.”
I chewed, pleased with her honesty, even though it didn’t make up for the phone. I’d already known she’d snooped, but I hadn’t expected her to bring it up herself. “Great, isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s like a mini superstore down there.”
“How can you joke about something like that?” Her eyebrows cinched. “What was all that? And the whiteboard with the pictures? I want to know what goes on under this roof.”
“All you have to do is ask, Natalia. You don’t need to sneak around. This is your home. You can go where you please.”
“This is your home.”
“And you are my wife. What’s mine is yours. I trust that whatever you see, you’ll view with an investigative eye and an open mind.” I paused to let that sink in. She’d seen quite a bit down there, and based on the other rumors she’d brought to me, I had no doubt her mind was running wild with potential scenarios. I tilted my head. “I trust you in our home.”
At least, I had.
“I haven’t done anything to earn that trust,” she said.
“You haven’t done anything to break it . . . have you?”
She drew a short breath. I’d have to teach her how to perfect—or even begin to hone—her poker face. I knew she was thinking of how she’d stashed a phone Diego had surely given her. I was. Diego was the last person I needed knowing about the goings on of my home, because he wouldn’t hesitate to use them against me.
“No, I haven’t,” she said finally. “So how do you explain the food, clothing, and toiletries down there?”
“They’re for the women who arrive here. To make the transition smoother. Whether they choose to stay or go, there’s always an adjustment period. Most of them have nothing.”
She picked up a glass of water and peered at me over it. “But you’re why they have nothing. Aren’t you?”
I sighed and rubbed the inside corners of my eyes. If she would just ask before insulting me, I would answer honestly. But she continued to dig her heels into her assumptions, and she’d have to dig herself back out once she learned the truth.
It was my own fault she chose to think the worst of me, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“If there’s any kind of abuse, I won’t live here,” she warned.
That warning tone was new, not quite an accusation, perhaps even cracking the door open to a real conversation. But it was too hard to resist watching her get riled up. “Where will you live?” I asked. “In the stable?”
She pursed her lips, reminding me of the petulant child I’d once known. That fiery attitude she’d had before Bianca’s death was returning, and I didn’t mind the burn. In fact, knowing me, I was pretty sure I’d be sticking my hands into the flame anytime the opportunity presented itself.
After a bite of chicken, I said, “Going downstairs into the panic room must’ve brought up some old memories, no?”
Her answering silence spoke volumes. I wasn’t wrong, but I was probably the last person she wanted to open up to about the day I’d locked her in a closet with me and threatened her life before Bianca’s body was even cold. But who understood better than me? We’d both stumbled across the body. We’d both loved and respected Bianca. We’d both descended into the darkness together.