32. Adalina
Chapter 32
Adalina
T he scene plays out like something straight from Lucia’s romance novels. Dante falls on the bed beside me, and somewhere in the silence, we fall asleep. I feel his arms snake around my waist in the middle of restless dreams, and I curl into his body like we’ve known each other for a decade instead of a week. I forget everything that brought me here—my father’s abuse, my father’s debt, my father’s threats. In between dreams that will never come true, I find myself thinking about life after lockup. That maybe one day, there will be more for me in life.
In the middle of the night, Dante mumbles something in his sleep that stirs me from mine. They are quiet and unclear, their meaning lost in a haze of half-consciousness. I feel his arm slip away from my waist as he rolls over onto his side, his breaths coming in slow, even strokes in the darkness. The moonlight seeps through the window, casting a shadow on his peaceful face.
I try to fall back asleep, but I can’t. Instead, I get up and go to the bathroom. The clock above the bed taunts me, its hands pointing at 1:12 am, a reminder that my father’s sunset curfew has long passed. I relieve myself, mind racing with thoughts of Tommaso’s impending revenge. How will he pay back Dante for his crimes? What cruel and merciless punishment does he have in store for him?
I don’t feel tired when I emerge from the bathroom. I resist the urge to turn on a light, not wanting to disturb Dante’s slumber. It’s a new experience for me, having a man in my bed, but I have to admit, it feels nice. I don’t want him to leave.
I stroll over to the window and gaze out at the grounds below. The sky above is a canvas of dark clouds, occasionally dotted with a few slivers of rain that quickly disperse. The peacefulness of the night envelopes me as 1:00 am gradually transitions into 2:00 am. The only sounds are the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof and the distant chirping of crickets.
It occurs to me that if Dante is in the room, the door must be unlocked. And for a fleeting moment, I consider my options. I could make a run for it. I don’t know if I’ll make it out of the house or off his property before I’m caught, but shouldn’t I at least try?
The little voice in my head asks me where I’ll go. Instantly, my mind jumps to New York City, with its bustling streets and endless opportunities. But just as quickly, I am drawn to the golden state of California, where the weather is always warm and inviting. It’s harder living on the East Coast, where hurricanes and snowstorms could easily take me out. But in certain parts of the West Coast, it never dips below sixty degrees. I could create a comfortable life in California. I might be homeless for a few days, but there are shelters. And I’m an adult, so no one will take me back to my father’s.
I look out the window and plan my escape, but deep inside, I know I won’t even make it to the door. In truth, I am safe in the comfort of Dante Terlizzi’s. Even though he plans to ransom me back to my father, he is gentler than the streets. Here, I am safe and protected, for a little while at least. The plush furnishings and rich fabrics offer a stark contrast to the poverty and danger outside. With Dante’s protection, my existence becomes a little less painful, like a temporary reprieve from a never-ending storm.
A glint of light flashes in my peripheral vision, catching my attention and pulling me out of my reverie. I strain to locate its origin, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. Still, I watch the trees for movement, fooled by the Kansas wind when the branches sway.
Goosebumps dimple my arms as the air conditioning turns back on. A silent hum pervades the room, stealing the silence. I should go back to bed where it’s warm and curl up next to Dante for as long as he’ll let me. That would be nice. I don’t know if he’ll be around tomorrow. I don’t know if he’ll be nice tomorrow. Our relationship is tumultuous, with a constant rollercoaster of emotions.
But then, the light in the distance flickers again, closer to the house this time. The first one I could write off as a mirage, something conjured up by my sleeplessness. But this one lasts a few seconds longer, and though I cannot see anyone, the light approaches the house.
“There are guards at the gate,” I breathe quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace. I quickly look back to see if Dante heard me, but he’s dead to the world. With a sigh of relief, I turn my gaze back to the yard. The leaves rustle in the breeze from the storm, but there is no other movement.
It is all in my head, I tell myself. Or perhaps it’s Enzo or someone else who guards the property. Maybe one of Dante’s many brothers, tasked with protecting the family estate. I’m not usually awake at 2:00 am. I don’t know what’s happening on the grounds. For all I know, this is normal.
Then glass shatters somewhere below us, and though I want to rationalize it, I know that broken glass is never a good sign. There is danger lurking on the floor beneath us.
“Dante,” I call his name as I walk back toward the bed. He stirs a little, shifting from one side to the other. I reach down to rub his shoulder with a frown, calling his name a little louder.
Startled awake, he jolts upright and grabs my wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting it until I cry out in pain. It takes him a moment to register his surroundings before releasing me with an apologetic frown. The moonlight streams through the window, casting eerie shadows on his furrowed brow and tense jawline. “I’m sorry, Adalina. I-I didn’t know where I was at. I don’t usually sleep with women.”
I rub my sore wrist, pain shooting up my arm. Before I can tell him what I heard, a gunshot echoes through the house.
My heart races as Dante leaps out of bed, his eyes wild with fear and urgency. “Get in the closet!” His voice is sharp and commanding. Without hesitation, I scramble into the dark space, my hands shaking as I grip onto the clothes hanging above me.
Dante slams the closet door shut behind me. I hide in the darkness with fear tapping out a rhythm in my chest because I know what’s happening. I know who’s responsible.
This home invasion is sponsored by my father. This is his counterstrike. This is what we get for ignoring his sunset deadline.
We’ll be lucky to make it out alive.