Chapter 24 #2
“From now on, I want access to your location at all times,” Riccardo goes on.
“I’m setting you up a new phone with a shared email account that I can monitor, and you’ll be deleting any social media you have.
And before you think about trying to be sneaky, know that I have tech guys who can track everything you do. ”
My lungs feel like they’re in a vise, and it hurts to breathe, but he doesn’t stop there.
“I also need to go through your closet. Those little skirts and crop tops aren’t going to fly around other men. You can wear those at home for me, but that’s it. We’ll need to discuss your makeup, too.”
When I remain silent, he huffs out his irritation.
“I need a verbal fucking confirmation, Gabi. This isn’t that difficult to understand.”
“Okay,” I rasp. “I hear you.”
“There will also be some ground rules we need to discuss about your free time once we’re married.
I expect you to dedicate yourself to your home life.
I’ll let you see your friends once a month, and when you have our first baby, we’ll revisit that conversation.
You’ll be busy, and you need to understand your priorities. ”
Darkness edges my vision as I consider how bleak my future will be if I don’t do something. I know I won’t be able to live like this, but I can’t give voice to those thoughts. If Riccardo gets so much as an inkling that I might be up to something, he’ll probably drag me down the aisle tomorrow.
“Gabi,” he barks. “Don’t make me keep repeating myself.”
“Okay,” I blurt. “I’m sorry.”
Another frustrated sound scrapes against my ear. “From now on, I want you to text me every day when you get home from school and tell me what you’re doing.”
“Alright. I understand.”
“You sound like a fucking robot,” he chastises me. “Jesus. You don’t even know how lucky you are to have me. Other men would not put up with this shit.”
When I say nothing, his rage escalates, and this entire conversation has proven that Riccardo is so much worse than I thought.
“You should know I have plenty of women who are way hotter than you that would line up to marry me. I’m doing you a favor, but I’m starting to wonder what’s in it for me. Do you know how pissed Michael will be if you fuck this up?”
“Yes,” I clip out.
“It won’t end well for you,” he threatens.
“So make an effort. On Sunday, you can leave the island with me and show your appreciation by sucking my dick as a trial run. It will be good practice for you to learn now. When we’re married, I’ll expect you to greet me with a blow job when I come home from work. ”
I clutch my stomach, suppressing the urge to vomit as I make a noise I hope sounds like agreement, rather than revulsion.
He rants about something else, but my mind drifts, and I just keep repeating the same thing until, finally, he tires of the conversation and releases me from the call.
I shove my phone under the other pillow and use the remote to draw the shades before I bury myself beneath the covers.
Hours slip away, but I’m not sure I even sleep. I stare into the blackness, completely empty. When the reminder on my phone goes off, I get up and move around like a zombie, feeding Beppe before Julian offers to take him out for his walk. I nod, silently thanking him before I go back to bed.
When Beppe joins me again, we take shelter under the covers until a knock at my door wakes me up.
“Miss Bianchi,” Julian calls out. “It’s almost time to leave. Is everything okay?”
I glance at the time on my phone, disoriented and confused when I realize it’s the next day. I must have slept over seventeen hours, but I’m still exhausted.
“I’m staying home,” I tell him. “I don’t feel well.”
“Okay. Can I order you some breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I just need to feed Beppe.”
“I’ll feed Beppe and take him for a walk so you can rest.”
I glance down at him, and he wags his tail at the suggestion, so I release him.
Twenty minutes later, they return, and Julian delivers him back to my room.
“Let me know if you need anything.” He lingers in the hallway. “You can text me.”
I thank him again and pull the covers over my head to go back to sleep.
More time passes, and eventually, I manage to drag myself into the bathroom to have a shower and drink a glass of water.
Julian comes by throughout the day to take Beppe out, and at one point, he leaves a bag from my favorite bakery in my room.
It makes me think of Eros, and I check my phone again, only to see he still hasn’t responded.
The ache in my chest grows, and I have the terrible realization that I miss him. When I consider that this is how my life will feel without him once he’s no longer in it, I want to cry all over again.
Grieving that loss before it even happens is too big to face right now, so I try to push it from my mind and go back to sleep.
Another day passes, and I still can’t bring myself to go to class. I’ve always loved school, but right now, even that is dark. All I want to do is hide away from the world.
Julian brings me more food and takes Beppe out for his walks.
At some point, my phone dies because I forget to charge it, and it occurs to me that I haven’t texted Riccardo. If he shows up here, I’ll have no choice but to throw myself out a window.
In the middle of the night, something stirs me from my sleep, and I’m not sure what it is. When I open my eyes, I can’t hear anything, but as they adjust, I see the figure sitting on the edge of my bed.
His back is turned to me, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the floor. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, but he looks tortured by something.
Without looking at me, he seems to sense that I’m awake.
“Tell me to stay away from you,” the modulated voice rasps.
A sharp pressure builds behind my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He turns to look at me, and I wish more than anything I could see his eyes right now.
“You did nothing wrong, Gabi. You never have.”
I try to read the meaning between his words, but it just makes my head hurt.
Being in the masochistic mood I am, I assume the worst and start asking things I shouldn’t.
“Is there someone else?” The words fracture as they leave my lips.
“No.” His voice dips. “Not for me.”
For a second, the pain in my chest eases, until I remember he’s trying to end this.
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“I told you I’m not good for you, and I meant it. I’m fucked in the head.”
He sounds so defeated, and I can’t handle this distance between us.
I pull back the covers and crawl toward him, and he releases a rough breath as I approach. I don’t know if he’ll reject me, but I have to try.
When I ease myself onto his lap, he bites back a sound like he’s in pain.
“Are you hurt?”
He doesn’t answer, so I try to get off him as concern takes over, but he grabs me and cages me in with his arms.
“I’m fine.”
I rest my head against his chest and soak up the familiarity of his warmth. I don’t know how it’s possible he can think he’s not good for me, because when I’m near him, it feels like I’m home.
“I missed this.” I choke out the words, and I’m embarrassed when tears leak from my eyes. I’m so emotional, but I can’t control it.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he cradles my head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, baby.”
He combs his fingers through my hair and rubs my back, offering me what I need most right now.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself.” His voice roughens. “Do you know what that does to me?”
I shake my head against him, and he swallows.
“I need to know you’re safe when I’m not here.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I force the words out. “Nothing does. My life isn’t mine, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
A beat of silence passes, and when he speaks again, his voice carries a lethal promise.
“What Michael told you—none of that is happening. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you, Gabi.”
“How do you even know about that?” I sniffle.
I’m not sure whether he’s referring to the virginity test, or the marriage stuff, or all of it, but either way, my mind goes to the worst-case scenario.
I know this man is capable of murder, and even though I don’t like Michael, I don’t want his death on my conscience.
“I won’t kill him,” Eros says, seemingly reading my thoughts. “Unless you want me to. In which case, I’ll do it with pleasure.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I know he’s not a good man, but all I really want is to be free of his control.”
“Have you ever considered telling him to get fucked?”
I laugh at the suggestion. “I’ve thought about it…a lot. But I can’t, and even if I could, I’m not good at confrontation.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he tells me. “You just need to practice. And you know what makes it easier?”
“What?”
“Having me beside you when you do it.”
“Would you really do that?”
“Yes.”
I let my mind run away with that thought, entertaining it even though I know it’s probably just a fantasy.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I nod without hesitating, because I don’t have to think about it. I do trust him.
“I want you to do something for me.” He leans back so we’re face-to-mask. “Close your eyes and think of a time you complied when you wanted to refuse.”
I close my eyes, and a million different scenarios compete for attention in my thoughts.
With too many volleying through my mind, I latch onto a core memory.
I was still young—overstimulated, and I couldn’t stop crying or hyperventilating. I didn’t understand what was happening, only that my body felt like it had been hijacked and I had no control over it.
My parents hated it when I got upset, but that night was different, because I embarrassed Michael in front of his friends. He told Mom to deal with me, and she took me to my room. She was so angry, she just kept shaking me and screaming for me to stop.
When I couldn’t, she told me to go into my closet, even though she knew I was afraid of the dark. I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway, because I wanted their approval.