Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Liana
Idream of Andre, of home, of running through hallways, searching for a door that leads outside.
When I wake, the sheets are twisted around my legs and sunlight spills through windows I forgot to cover.
And I’m still stuck here in Arizona. My new prison.
A knock at the door jolts me upright, making my heart hammer.
"What?" My voice comes out rough and still thick with sleep.
The door swings open making my eyes go wide.
Frankie stands in the doorway, his arms crossed and muscles bulging.
I take in his large form, unable to look away as his own eyes sweep over me.
What is he thinking as he takes in the mess I've made of myself?
I can't read his expression. I want to be annoyed that he didn't wait for me to tell him to come in, but also…
a part of me likes that he could have walked in at any moment and seen me naked.
Would he have watched? Or would he have turned away?
"Get dressed," he says, voice flat. "We're leaving in twenty minutes."
He doesn't even wait for an answer and the door clicks shut behind him as he leaves. I'm out of bed in an instant, suddenly wide awake and overly excited. Shopping in the city. People. Real people. It feels like a dream. For the first time since I got to Arizona, I feel something like hope.
Twenty minutes later we are sitting in yet another SUV.
‘Jesus,’ I think to myself, ‘does anyone drive anything else besides SUVs around here?’
“So where are we going?” I ask with excitement as I eye Frankie while he drives.
He breathes out a loud sigh like I’m already annoying him.
I get a small sense of satisfaction knowing I’ve gotten under this man’s skin, especially when he has barely glanced in my direction.
I can see the faint outline of a bruise on the bottom of his jaw but the tattoo on his neck hides part of it.
I can’t tell if it’s old or new but something about it makes me want to touch it.
His voice pulls me from my thoughts before I have the opportunity to make a fool of myself, thankfully.
"Scottsdale Fashion Square," he says without looking at me. "You need clothes, right?"
I can't hide my smile.
"Thank god. I was starting to think I'd have to wear the same three outfits for the rest of my life."
He doesn't laugh, just flicks his eyes to me briefly before returning them to the road. "How many outfits do you think you need?"
The question catches me off guard so I reply with sass.
"I don't know. Enough? It's not like I packed for this…arrangement. Should I be counting?"
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
"Get whatever you need."
‘Okay jerk. What is this man’s deal?’
I huff and cross my arms over my chest as I turn to look out the window.
The mall rises before us like some gleaming monument.
It's massive and nothing like the quaint shopping streets back home.
When we park, I practically leap from the car, but Frankie's hand catches my arm before I can get far, reminding me that I have a babysitter.
"Stay close," he warns, his grip firm but not painful. "I'm not chasing you through a crowded mall."
"I'm not going to run," I snap, rolling my eyes at him, though the thought had crossed my mind briefly. "Where would I even go?"
His eyes search mine, and I have the uncomfortable feeling he can read every thought in my head so I look away. Finally, he releases me with a nod and doesn’t bother to reply.
Inside, the air conditioning hits me, making me shiver.
The mall stretches out in all directions, glittering with endless possibilities.
People mill about, in and out of stores, laughing and talking.
Normal people living normal lives. For a moment, I almost forget why I'm here.
Almost. The presence of the broody man next to me reminds me.
"Where first?" Frankie asks, sounding bored already.
I point to the nearest department store, not having a clue what kind it is.
"There."
What follows is the strangest shopping spree of my life.
Frankie follows me from rack to rack, standing a careful distance away as I select clothes.
He doesn't rush me, doesn't complain, just watches with those unreadable eyes. When I hesitate over prices, he shrugs. I never had to worry about those things back home but I’m not sure here.
"Don't worry about cost."
I test this by selecting a ridiculously expensive sundress. He doesn't even blink when we reach the register, just hands over a sleek black credit card. Interesting.
By the third store, I've amassed enough bags that Frankie has to make a trip to the car with me right behind him. When we return, I'm already pointing with an innocent smile at the other stores I want to visit. How long will he allow me to spend this money? How far can I push him?
"You're enjoying this," he says, and I swear there's almost amusement in his voice.
"Wouldn't you, if you were trapped in a stranger's house with nothing familiar?"
Something flickers across his face…not quite guilt, but close. "Keep going. We have time."
Hours later, my feet ache and my stomach growls loud enough for Frankie to hear. He leads me to the food court without asking, settling us at a table near the back wall where he can see all the entrances.
"What do you want?" he asks, scanning the options.
"Pizza," I say immediately, making me think of home.
His mouth quirks.
"Mall pizza isn't going to compare to Italy."
"I'll be the judge of that."
When he returns with our food, I dive in, suddenly ravenous. The pizza is exactly as mediocre as he predicted, but I devour it anyway. Frankie picks at his own food, eyes constantly sweeping the crowd.
"Do you ever relax?" I ask around a mouthful.
"No."
The answer comes so quickly I almost laugh.
"What's the deal with you, anyway? You're not what I expected from one of Rio's…people."
His expression shifts, almost imperceptibly.
"What did you expect?"
I shrug, silently relishing in the fact that this man is finally speaking full sentences.
"I don't know. Someone older? Less…" I wave my hand vaguely at his tattooed arms and his sharp jawline.
"Less what?" There's an edge to his voice now.
"Intimidating," I finish lamely.
“A business suit like your family?”
My eyes widen in surprise. Has he met my family?
“This isn’t the mafia. It’s cartel. We are not the same. We don’t need to walk around in fancy suits,” He says as his green eyes flash.
He stares directly into my eyes, making me squirm suddenly. My family is dangerous, I've always known that, but this man, he’s something more.
“Definitely intimidating,” I murmur as I look down at my food nervously and back up at him again.
That gets me a real smile, quick and dangerous.
"Good. That's the point."
We finish eating in silence. I'm gathering our trash when Frankie checks his watch.
"One more stop," he says, standing. "Come on."
I follow him out of the mall, expecting to head back to the car, but instead he leads me down the street to a small, unassuming storefront. The sign reads "The Poisoned Pen" in elegant script. A bookstore.
My heart does a strange little flip in my chest.
"What are we doing here?" I ask, trying to sound casual when really I want to squeal like a little girl.
Frankie shrugs.
"You like books. Thought you might want some new ones."
The simple kindness of it is so unexpected that it leaves me momentarily speechless. He didn’t have to bring me here, and yet, he did. What does that mean? I push through the door before he can see my face.
Inside, the store is a reader's paradise. Books everywhere, floor to ceiling, with that perfect paper-and-ink smell that makes my shoulders instantly relax. A woman with deep red hair and bright eyes greets us from behind the counter.
"Welcome to The Poisoned Pen! Looking for anything specific today?"
"Just browsing," Frankie answers for us, but his hand presses gently against my lower back, urging me forward. "Take your time."
I lose myself in the shelves, running my fingers along spines, pulling out titles that catch my eye. For the first time since leaving Italy, I feel something like peace. When I glance back, Frankie is watching me with an expression I can't quite decipher.
"Find anything good?" he asks when I approach with an armful of books.
"These," I say, suddenly shy. "If that's okay?"
He takes them from me, examining each title before flipping them over to read the backs.
His eyes scrunch up and I’m suddenly glowing very red while I try to remember what books I’ve chosen.
I’ve purposely picked titles with discreet covers but now I’m worried what words this man is possibly reading right now.
After a few agonizing minutes, he looks up at me with a small smirk and hands the books to the cashier.
If the Earth could just open up and swallow me whole right now, that would be great.
"These are fine," he says with a straight face while I stand there mortified. I’m suddenly grateful for the few other books I put back on the shelf.
As we walk back to the truck, I can't help but ask, "Why did you bring me here?"
Frankie studies me for a long moment. "Everyone needs an escape," he says finally. "Even prisoners."
The word hangs between us. He’s not sugar-coating it and neither of us pretends it isn't true.
Back in the truck, surrounded by shopping bags and my new books, I feel both better and worse.
The day out was a relief, but it only highlighted the reality of my situation.
No matter how many new clothes I have, no matter how many books, I'm still here against my will, waiting to marry a man I've never met.
"Thank you," I say quietly as Frankie starts the engine. "For today."
He doesn't look at me, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"Don't thank me, Liana. I'm still your jailer."
The brutal honesty should sting, but somehow it's refreshing after a lifetime of lies and half-truths. I clutch one of my new books to my chest and watch the city blur past the window, wondering if I'll ever see it again.