22. Day 44 – Caterina
Stefano stares at my bedroom door, his entire body locked into stillness.
“It won’t open itself.” I slide my hands around his waist and he grips them, holds them as if he’ll keep me here, in this bubble we created. Hours of learning each other, of sharing stories and kisses and hot, breathless touches.
But we’re out of time.
His thumb rubs against the back of my mind. “Remember what I said.”
I know nothing about last night. I followed my usual routine of dinner and bed, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. “I know.”
We linger for a moment longer, before I step out from behind him. His arm jerks as if he’ll stop me, pull me back.
The breakfast room is silent.
I sit quietly in my seat as Stefan fastens the straps over my arms, his finger brushing my skin before he pulls away to move to his own seat.
Salvatore shakes out his paper. My breakfast sits untouched for long minutes as we wait. Across from me, Cecile picks at her own fruit, her eyes darting between us all.
Breathe.I can feel the reminder in Stefan’s eyes on my face.
We’re as covered as we were ever going to be. An electrical fire caused a small explosion that wiped out the power for a good hour, including the cameras. The keys Stefan took are exactly where they should be.
And Salvatore – he finally puts the paper down. Smiles at me. “Good morning, wife.”
I murmur the words back as he expects. Accept the spoon when he holds it out, distaste warring with anticipation as I slowly eat the yogurt.
When I’m finished, his finger strokes against my arm. “I’m looking forward to our dinner this evening.”
And… that’s it. He dismisses us with a cool nod, his eyes still on me as Stefan undoes the straps and grabs my arm, pulling me from the room with a determination that I know isn’t entirely feigned.
Cecile stalks after us, and we stay quiet as she follows us down to the dungeon.
My eyes travel past the cages to the room they dragged me to yesterday. Stefano was a few feet away, and I didn’t even know.
Cecile snaps her fingers in my face as she passes us. “Something on your mind, Caterina?”
“Nothing.” My voice is almost sweet. “Apart from dreaming of your death, that is.”
Stefan’s finger pokes into my back.
I expect her to roll her eyes. Threaten, as she enjoys doing. But she doesn’t say anything, her eyes lingering on me before she turns away.
I strip off and take my place in the line of women, my hands folded placidly in my lap and my head bowed as we wait for instructions. My eyes slide to the left, and I pause.
The dark-haired girl – she’s gone. Replaced by a slack-faced brunette. She lists to the side, as if she’ll topple over, her eyes glazed.
My stomach turns.
“Up.” We’re herded out of the room, the guards staying close as we march down the hall to a dark studio, modeled to mimic a nightclub. Stefan uncrosses his arms, stepping away from the wall to follow as I glance over my shoulder.
Cecile moves down the line as we stand quietly, handing out shoes. Mine are half a size too small when I try to squeeze my feet into them, gaudy gold glittering heels that look to be at least six inches.
When I straighten, I realize how long it’s been since I wore heels. Since I dressed as Caterina Corvo, the heir to the Corvo line, with my pencil skirts, my silk shirts.
My knives. Fuck, I miss my knives.
My fingers twitch. It will not be long.
With Stefan’s eyes on me, I don’t feel as alone as I did in those first days and weeks. The music pounds as each of us is allocated a space to dance, the guards leering and muttering to themselves as Cecile walks around, criticizing and slapping where movements are out of sync.
For once, she leaves me alone, scanning me with thinned lips before she turns her back and moves onto the next girl.
My eyes catch Stefano, his jaw tight, as my hands slide around the pole and I twist, arching my back.
His brows flick upward.
No. Not quite so alone.
His hand lingers at the bottom of my bare back, not quite touching the skin as we’re escorted out. Muttered words heat the delicate ridge of my ear. “Stop it.”
My lips twitch as I fight to keep that empty look on my face. But it slips into place easily enough, as we turn left and the rest of them turn right, herded by the guards for their other training. Any amusement drains from me.
“I hate this.”
Stefan nudges me forward, silently urging speed. Before the sounds start to ripple out. “I know.”
I don’t see Cecile again until it’s time to dress for dinner. She turns up at my door with an evening gown in a wide cream box, her own body clad in a floor-length, nude dress with crystals spreading across it in a black wave that leaves little to the imagination.
The sight of it fills me with relief. Not just the two of us tonight, then.
She follows me into the bathroom, her red lips pursing at the bare wall above the sink. “What happened to your mirror?”
Breathe.
“It fell. Stefano got rid of it.”
She eyes me for another moment before moving on. “Shower, and then come out.”
I make the shower last as long as possible. Steam fills the space around me as I wash my hair, wash it again. Apply conditioner and comb it out, slowly.
The water is hot, but my body grows colder by the second.
I made this choice. I could be home now, back with the men I walked away from, back in my apartment, my home. Making plans to take down Matteo and Salvatore with them by my side. But I chose to stay. And now… now I must live with it.
The first consequence comes sooner than I thought. I stare at the paraphernalia Cecile has laid out, dragging the edges of my robe closer together. “I don’t think so.”
And that cold expands, expands into a ball of frost that sinks inside my stomach, squeezing and clenching.
A new twist in Salvatore’s game.
Cecile rolls her eyes as she dips a stick into the hot wax. “Do I need to call in the guards? Because I will. I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves.”
I press my lips together. My eyes slide to the top end of my bed. To the space between the mattress and the wall.
Cecile huffs impatiently. Her hand gestures towards the bed. “Well? Hurry up.”
The wax stings against my skin, leaving a prickling burn behind as she rips off the strips with savage enjoyment.
My hands clench as I stare up at the ceiling.
My choice.
I hold onto that thought as she dresses me in scraps of lilac lace before opening the box that arrived with her. The pale silver corset of the gown is stitched with crystal beading that shimmers in the light, layers of matching tulle floating around me to pool against the floor as she ties a black ribbon around my throat and shoves my feet into matching small heels.
My shoulders are dusted with shimmering silver, lips carefully slicked with pale pink, and Cecile clicks her tongue as she steps back, adjusting a curl. Strands of hair have been pulled back to create a small braid at the back of my head, the rest of my hair loose and flowing. “Lovely.”
Somehow, her reluctant admiration only makes it worse.
Stefano is leaning against the wall of the hallway when we walk out, sharp and sleek in a black tuxedo with a matching shirt. He runs a hand over his shaved head when he sees me, his brows drawing down.
“Doesn’t she look lovely, Stefano?” Cecile nudges him, and he brushes her off.
His eyes are bleeding into darkness when he looks at me again. “After you, Cecile.”
Slowly, he turns, offering me his arm. My side brushes against his, and I glance down at the holster as we follow Cecile down the hall.
When she turns the corner, he holds me back. His hand slides to cover mine. “We can try again.”
There’s wretchedness in his tone as I tug my arm from his, turning him to face me. “You couldn’t get rid of me the first time, and you want to do it again?”
No amusement lingers in his face at my soft tease. Only resignation. “I’m not going to sit there and let him touch you.”
My heart flips over at that. Begins to race, with the first bit of panic that I allow myself to feel. “You’re not going to do anything. Whatever he throws at me, I can take it.”
“All day,” he says in a low, pained tone. “I have thought about my mother, up in that room, Cat. Except I don’t see her face anymore. I see yours. You are asking me to stand back and let it happen again, and I can’t.”
I flinch at that, and regret flits over his expression before it hardens. “Promise me. Whatever it is, I will fight. But promise me that you will too.”
After.
That I will keep fighting, keep breathing. Keep living.
My gaze does not break as I meet his eyes. “I promise.”
When I pull on his arm, he starts to move again, my arm sliding back into the crook of his and his hand on top of mine.
He doesn’t let go until we reach the dining room.
Salvatore stands as we walk in, his eyes sweeping me in approval. Approval, and something else, something that feels cloying and thick as it crawls over my skin.
He dismisses Stefan with a flick of his fingers, motioning him to sit a few seats down from Cecile before pulling out my chair.
There are no restraints tonight.
“I think you’ve earned a reprieve.” But he reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together on top of the pristine white tablecloth.
The four of us sit in silence. Waiting. And as I glance down the table, I notice the extra places laid up with crystal glasses and silver tableware.
That bland expression is back on Stefan’s face, but his lips tighten a fraction as he notices them too.
Several minutes pass before a noise echoes from the hall. Salvatore rises to his feet, dragging me with him as the doors open.
“Good evening, cugina.”
My shoulders tense.
I don’t smile as Matteo rounds the table, reaching for my hand and pressing it to his lips. “You look radiant.”
My hand sits limp in his, as I stare toward the door.
Hazel eyes meet mine, flecked with green and gold. Golden stubble grazes his face, his dark gray suit perfectly tailored as he saunters in.
“Buonasera, ladies and gentlemen. Asante, lovely place you have here.”
Luciano Morelli smirks at me, his mouth tipping up into a cold smile I don’t recognise. “And such lovely company, too.”
Luc.
Alive.
Here.Vibrant and healthy, although deep circles sit beneath his eyes.
But he’s here.
And behind him—
“Domenico.” I breathe his name, my hand clenching in Salvatore’s grip. My heart drops.
He looks terrible. Bruising litters his face, his neck. And he’s somehow, impossibly bigger, wider, the muscles straining against his shirt as he stares back at me.
Dom takes a step forward, but Luc slaps a hand against his chest. “Don’t be rude, Rossi. Greet our host.”
Beside me, Matteo laughs softly in the otherwise silent room.
The look Dom gives Luc would flay a lesser man. Slowly, his head nods in Salvatore’s direction. “Asante.”
But he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
Salvatore’s hand slides up my back and grips the back of my neck. Squeezes it enough to tell me that it’s a warning to behave. “Let’s sit, shall we?”
Slowly, I sink down into my seat and grip my hands together.
Matteo and Salvatore carry the discussion, Luc chiming in with sarcastic little comments as starters are placed in front of everyone else.
I don’t get one.
My cheeks flush red, the heat spreading down my neck and across my chest when Salvatore sits back. He pats his leg, as if I’m a dog he’s calling to heel.