Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Liana
Iwake with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar softness beneath me.
This isn’t the stone bench I was reading on earlier.
This isn’t the garden I escaped to after my day of shopping with Frankie.
My eyes snap open, and I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, watching the streaks of light that shoot across the walls.
‘How the hell did I get here?’
A memory flashes through my mind. Strong arms lifting me, the steady thud of a heartbeat against my ear. The scent of cedar and something sharper, like gunpowder and sin. I was carried like a child. Like something precious. I don’t know whether to be appreciative or annoyed.
‘Annoyed. Definitely annoyed.’
I sit up too fast and the motion causes my head to spin.
That’s when I see them…all my shopping bags from earlier, lined up against the wall.
Not dumped there, but organized neatly. Clothing bags in one row, accessories in another and shoes all stacked from the smallest to the largest box.
On the nightstand are all my books. But not just the ones I bought earlier.
Three more I’d lingered over, running my fingers along their spines and putting them back because I’d already picked too many.
Books I didn’t buy. Books Frankie must have gone back for. My heart skips a beat.
I reach out and touch the top one, sliding my finger across the smooth cover.
It’s a dark college romance. One I’d held for five minutes before giving up on it when I realized I probably shouldn’t read about college…
somewhere I would probably never get the chance to be.
I wanted it though. I wanted it so bad, I just couldn’t bring myself to be the one to get it.
And he’d noticed. He’d watched me that closely and for some reason that makes me want to read the book even more.
“Bastard,” I mutter, but there’s no bite to it. How am I supposed to stay furious at someone who carried me to bed and remembered which books I couldn’t stop looking at?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad across the room.
‘Might as well make this place feel a little more mine.’
I start unpacking dresses and placing them on hangers.
I line my new shoes neatly across the shelving in my closet.
The routine calms my nerves. It lets me pretend I’m in control of something.
I’m so calm I even unzip my suitcase, the one thing my uncle allowed me to keep.
I’m reaching in when my fingers rustle across something smooth and soft and my eyes catch on the sparkle, making the corner of my mouth tilt upwards.
Pulling out the white teddy Sasha gave me puts a smile on my face.
It’s so beautiful I can’t stop looking at it.
It would make the perfect piece for my wedding night if I actually married someone I wanted to.
I scowl as I imagine some ugly bastard getting to see me wear this but my scowl falls when Frankie enters my mind.
What would he think if he saw me in this?
‘Stop it, Liana. You’re engaged to another man.’
I’m halfway through my thoughts of putting the teddy on when I hear a knock on the door causing me to shove the piece back into my suitcase and close it quickly. Before I can answer, Pita sweeps in with a tray that smells like heaven.
“Ah, you’re awake!” she beams, and it’s like the sun just walked into the room. “I thought you might be hungry after your adventure.”
My stomach growls so loud it’s embarrassing.
“Starving actually. Thank you.”
She sets the tray on the table by the window. Enchiladas, rice, beans, and a slice of flan.
“I figured you’d be busy unpacking, so I brought dinner to you.”
I drop into the chair, mouth already watering and preparing to devour my meal embarrassingly fast.
“It looks amazing.”
“Eat, eat,” she urges, and I don’t need to be told twice. The first bite is heaven, making me moan out loud. Between bites, I find my nerve to ask the question lingering on my mind.
“Who brought me in? I fell asleep in the garden.”
Pita’s hands still, just for a second before she responds. It’s as if she has to think about her answer before she speaks which I find very strange.
“Frankie,” she says, not quite meeting my eyes. “He found you when the sun was going down. Worried you might get too cold.”
My heart skips a beat for a second as I try to picture the tattooed, scowling man carrying me with anything like care. It doesn’t compute.
“What’s his deal, anyway?” I press, watching her. “Why is he so…intense?”
Her face shuts down, fast. “Frankie is…he’s complicated. He has his reasons.”
“For being an asshole?”
The look on her face is priceless. She looks scandalized, but doesn’t scold me like I’m a child either. I find myself noticing how much I’ve liked the fact that this woman has treated me like an adult…an equal even.
“For being careful. For keeping his distance.”
I want to dig, but her expression says don’t. Fine. Change of subject it is. I’ll get more answers eventually.
“What’s Arizona like?” I ask, nodding at the window where the last light is fading. “The real Arizona. Not just malls and mansions.”
She looks relieved at my quick change of subject, an immediate smile blooming across her face.
“Beautiful, in its own way. Not like Italy exactly, but still beautiful. The desert teaches you to find beauty in harsh places.”
“And the people?”
“Direct. Honest…mostly. Not as formal as Europeans, I think.” She smooths her apron, stalling. “Some good, some bad. Like anywhere.”
‘What secrets is this woman hiding?’
I can see them stirring in her eyes but it seems she’s locked up tight as a vault. I push my plate away, my appetite suddenly gone.
“When will I get to see it for myself? Besides supervised shopping trips.”
Pita sighs heavily like she was expecting the conversation to turn this direction.
“That’s…complicated, mija.”
“Everything here is complicated,” I mutter.
“Rio has his reasons for the security,” she says carefully. “He wouldn’t restrict your movements without good cause.”
“But what cause?” I push. “What am I being protected from? Or does he just not trust me?”
She twists her hands in her apron nervously.
“It’s not my place to explain his decisions.”
“Of course not.” I try to be neutral, but the bitterness slips out. “No one will tell me anything. It’s like being in Italy all over again. Except at least there I had Andre…and Sasha. I miss them.”
She touches my shoulder gently.
“Patience, Liana. All those answers will come with time.”
But time is exactly what I don’t have. Every day brings me closer to marrying a stranger and being trapped here forever. Will my cousin be able to save me from this? Or am I stuck on my own?
“Thank you for dinner,” I say politely, instead of screaming. I just want this depressing conversation to be over now. “It was delicious.”
She hears the dismissal and gathers the tray, pausing at the door.
“Try to rest, mija. Tomorrow is another day.”
When she’s gone, I go back to unpacking, hanging clothes with too much force and slamming my drawers harder than necessary.
I’m fully aware I’m acting like a child, but I can’t even help it.
By the time I’m done, everything is perfect, and my anger is just a dull ache, but it’s still there… lingering.
I stand in the center of the room. My room, I guess, and take a deep breath.
Is this how it will be? Will I have my own room separate from my husband?
Will he come see me only when he wants an heir and enjoy other women the rest of the time?
That thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I may not want to marry the old man but that doesn't mean I want my husband to take a mistress either.
Unfortunately, I learned long ago that it doesn't matter what I want. I’m just a prisoner in whatever house I make my own.
“You can do this,” I whisper, the words hanging in the quiet. “You can survive this. Andre might not be here to help you but you aren’t weak. You are a Manitellie, after all.”
I run my fingers over the spines of my new books relishing in the smooth feel of the covers.
Books Frankie bought without being asked…
out of kindness, maybe? I try to believe that kindness, even from unexpected places, means I’m not truly alone here.
That maybe, just maybe, this is more than being a pawn in someone else’s game.
It’s not much. But for tonight, it’s enough.