Chapter 16
GIANNA
I was huddled under the covers while Matteo showered and changed clothes, and he didn’t try to touch me again before he left.
Good thing too, because my thoughts were going in a million different directions and I have no idea what I’d do if he tried.
I’d probably be moaning and wishing he’d continue while at the same time kicking him away.
Even after I calmed down and my thoughts settled, I still didn’t have any peace. Will I ever have peace again? Or will I always be torn between this desire and hate for him? It’s a question I desperately need an answer to but know I probably never will.
I’d already resigned myself to another day locked in this room with nothing but old books, the view of the garden and my thoughts for entertainment, when the door opened and he walked in again.
“Come on, I’m taking you to see your sister.”
I literally don’t think I heard him right. But I don’t want to ruin the illusion by asking him to repeat himself.
“It’s real,” he says, as though reading my mind. “Let’s go.”
I’m off my perch by the window and standing next to him so fast I don’t even remember moving. That makes him chuckle, but it’s a strained sound and the smile leaves his eyes serious.
He moves so I can exit the room first but then overtakes me in the long empty hallway. The floorboards creak under his footsteps, but my bare feet don’t make a sound. The wood is much colder than I would expect it to be, as cold as concrete.
“Bet you wish you wore something other than your mourning clothes now,” he says once we’re about halfway down the hallway.
It’s lined with many identical looking doors, which probably lead to rooms that look a lot like my prison. I don’t hear anyone moving in any of them.
“And I bet Chiara will understand why I’m dressed like this.”
We reach a wooden staircase with a gleaming handrail and dark blue carpeting running down the middle. The wool is scratchy, but warm against my feet and for the first time since I got here, I feel hope.
We descend two flights and go down another hallway, this one with fewer doors. He stops at a double-sided one with a brass handle and knocks loudly.
“Come,” a man says. I recognize the raspy voice. It belongs to the monster who married my sister and I’m suddenly very cold again. But hope is still warming my chest. More like embers now, rather than a fire, but they’re glowing.
Matteo opens the door and I let out a breath I think I’ve been holding since he came to get me in my room.
Chiara is sitting on a plush, beige sofa in the middle of the room, wearing a floral print gown which must’ve gone out of style sometime in the middle of the last century. Her long dark hair is loose, hanging over her shoulders and her green eyes are brighter than anything else in the room.
I rush past Matteo and am sitting beside her, hugging her close before I realize what I’m doing.
“Are you all right?” I ask, barely keeping from sobbing. “I was so worried about you.”
“Yes,” she says, not hugging me back. What’s wrong with her? Is she drugged?
“Best leave them to it,” the monster says in his raspy voice and then their thudding footsteps are cut off by the door closing and the lock clicking.
Chiara finally hugs me back, squeezing me tighter than she ever had.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Are you?”
I just nod, holding her tight, unable to speak just yet.
“I’m sorry for the cold welcome. But I’m not showing any kind of emotion to that bastard.”
She releases me, but I take her hands and squeeze them tight. “When did you get so tough?”
I smile at her, and she smiles back, but it’s not an altogether pretty sight. Her eyes are still two glowing green orbs.
“I’ve always been tough,” she says. “You know that. And a good thing too, because it prepared me for this shit. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
I shake my head. “I just hope Mom and Dad and Lidia are safe.”
“They seem to be,” she says, but then lays two fingers over my lips before I can ask how she knows.
“The less we talk about them the better,” she whispers. “Someone’s always listening here.”
“Well, they didn’t get anything from me,” I say and lean back on the sofa.
It smells of damp and dust and is actually hard as a rock.
The total opposite of how pretty it looks.
Just like most things in this house, it was probably new a long time ago and didn’t get much use since then.
“I’ve been locked in a bedroom on the third floor since we got here. ”
“Has anyone hurt you?” she asks, piercing me with her glowing green look.
I shake my head but feel heat rising in my cheeks. “It’s just been Matteo. I haven’t seen anyone else.”
“And has he? Hurt you, I mean?” she asks, her gaze practically piercing my skull.
I shake my head. “No. He hasn’t.”
“At least you liked him before this happened,” she says. “Must make it easier.”
I don’t know about easier. Maybe. But also so much harder in so many ways. I don’t think I can explain that to her without sounding like a traitor to my family, so I won’t even try.
“And you? Has he hurt you?” I ask instead.
She grins darkly. “You mean, Angelo Ferro, my new husband? What a bad name. I swear he’s the least angelic person I’ve ever met. But no, he hasn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t dare.”
“So he hasn’t… you didn’t…” I glance at one of the half open doors that lead out of this room.
Through the crack I just about make out a large four poster bed.
I’ve been driving myself insane thinking about my little sister getting raped.
I threw up twice because of it, and I finally had to block it out completely or I’d really go insane.
She follows my gaze but doesn’t answer. And the shadows covering her eyes now make me want to throw up again. And wish I had in fact gone insane.
She stands up suddenly and pulls me along. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
She releases my hand and strides to the door of the room, banging on it hard.
“Let us out,” she yells through the door. “We need some fresh air. My sister hasn’t been out in three days.”
I figured nothing would happen, so it’s a total surprise when the door actually opens and a tall, lanky guy with a shaved head and wearing a three-piece suit opens the door. “I want to go for a walk in the garden with my sister.”
“I will relay your request, Mrs. Ferro,” the guy says and proceeds to lock the door again.
“You can go outside?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Sometimes he gives me what I want. Sometimes he doesn’t. We’ll see.”
A few moments later the door opens again, and the tall guy informs her that we can go for a short walk in the garden.
“And afterwards, we’ll be having a nice dinner in my room,” she tells him, then takes my hand and pulls me out into the hallway.
Three guys follow us down the stairs, and I can hear voices coming from some of the rooms we pass, but we meet no one.
Feeling the fresh sea air on my face and seeing the lush greenery all around is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Hearing the waves too.
“I thought I’d never get out of this house,” I say as she pulls me down the garden path and into the trees.
“Oh, we’re getting out of this house,” she says. “Don’t worry about it. We just have to be patient.”
“And have hope,” I add. She rolls her eyes at me, but then squeezes my hand tighter.
“Yes, and hope,” she says. “It’s always good to have hope.”
And I do. My chest is exploding with it. And with the feeling that everything will work out now.