18. Adalina
Chapter 18
Adalina
I get a feel for how my days will look after Dante leaves me in the bath.
I sink down to my nose in the bubbles and let the warm water soothe my aching muscles. The house is silent in the wake of Dante’s absence, which gives me time to think.
I can trace the steps of how I got here, at least back to last night. If I hadn’t agreed to go out with Ruggero and Annaliese, I wouldn’t be trapped in Dante’s mansion. But a nagging feeling gnaws at the back of my mind, telling me that even if I had stayed home last night, I would still find myself in this predicament.
Although I have little knowledge of my father’s business dealings, it is clear that his actions veer into the realm of illicit and immoral. You don’t have a team of loyal protectors at your disposal unless you are constantly in need of protection, and the only reason someone would need that level of security is if they are involved in illegal activities.
Dante’s twisted justification for kidnapping me is that my father supposedly owes him a vast sum of money. I never believed that my father was wealthy, but I didn’t realize he was deeply in debt to someone who would steal little girls as collateral.
As I finally emerge from the porcelain tub and wrap myself in a fluffy towel, I reluctantly accept that I will have to choose another dress from Dante’s sister’s closet. Though she may be a kind woman, if Dante can be believed, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable wearing someone else’s undergarments. Fortunately for me, Lucia Terlizzi has bigger breasts, so I don’t fit into any of her bras.
The rest of my afternoon is spent in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet. I wander around my new prison cell, taking in every detail. The books on the bookshelf are dusty and worn, their spines cracked from years of use. On Lucia’s nightstand, I find an array of trinkets and tiny treasures—a silver locket, a delicate porcelain figurine, and a worn leather journal containing poetry from ten years ago. Nothing seems particularly interesting to me.
I find myself sprawled out on the cool, hardwood floor as the sun sets, my legs propped up against the side of the bed. As I stare at the ceiling, I can’t help but ponder the decisions that led me to this moment.
A sudden, sharp knock echoes through the bedroom, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. I hear the familiar sound of locks being unlocked, and then Enzo’s silhouette appears in the doorway. My heart rate slows as my anxiety dissipates, and I resume my position of staring blankly at the ceiling above me, lost in my thoughts.
“I brought you dinner.” Enzo strides confidently towards the coffee table. With a gentle thud, he sets the tray down, careful not to disturb the food artfully arranged by the cook. “Do you have any food allergies? I need to inform the chef if special accommodations are needed.”
I roll my eyes even though he isn’t looking at me. I mumble my reply, the word ‘mangoes’ barely audible. Despite not being deathly allergic, I still dread the uncomfortable reaction that follows—my mouth breaking out into hives, swelling up, and becoming unbearably itchy.
Enzo nods his head in acknowledgment. “I will collect the dishes in an hour. If there is anything you need, please let me know.”
“I want out of here,” I reply in a bored tone.
He walks toward the door. “That is not an option at this time. Besides,” he pauses momentarily, and his air of professionalism falters, “you’re safer here.”
As my eyes settle on Enzo, I recognize the all-too-familiar expression on his face. It’s the same one every person has when they learn about my father’s abuse. Pity. Disgusting, nauseating pity. My stomach turns as I feel his judgment and sympathy wash over me. “So you know, too.”
Enzo’s eyebrows deepen into a sharp V. “Everyone knew , Adalina. It was one of the reasons Dante wanted to save you.”
A bitter, acrid laugh erupts from my lips before I can stop it. “ Save me? Look around. I traded one gilded cage for another. Do you think Tommaso kept me in a dirty garage and fed me scraps? I had a room just like this. No door, though, because my father said I didn’t deserve privacy. But he kept me well-dressed, well-fed, and on display for anyone who wanted to see me. Sure, under the clothes, I had bruises and open wounds inflicted upon me by his bodyguards, but he kept me in a prison just as extravagant as this one. Dante didn’t save me,” I spit out the words angrily. “Dante upgraded my stay from casual daily abuse to casual daily boredom. And sure, I’ll take that any day of the week over my father putting out cigars on my back. But don’t tell me Dante saved me. All he did was ensure the existence I return to will be even worse than it was before.”
A dark shadow crosses Enzo’s face, but it doesn’t come with a response. Without a word, he storms out of the room, slamming the door with enough force to shake the walls. My heart races as I hear him lock it with not one but three heavy deadbolts. The sound echoes in my ears, a clear warning that I am now trapped in this ominous place with no escape.
“Yeah, fuck you, too,” I tell the room. “Hey! Enzo! I need a cigarette!” I scream, but the locked door remains shut. My frustration boils over, and I let out a crazed laugh, my body shaking with maniacal amusement.
I don’t touch the food. Enzo returns an hour later to take away the untouched tray.
I laugh at him, the sound echoing through the room, manic and bouncing off the walls. He must think I’m completely unhinged. Maybe I am. The feeling of madness consumes me, sinking its claws deep into my mind, even though I’ve been here for less than a day. It’s suffocating, like being trapped in a padded cell with no way out.