Chapter Nineteen Ella
Chapter Nineteen
Ella
On the outskirts of town, we drive through an enormous set of gates into a fenced-off industrial complex. Dogs on leashes attached to pulleys on overhead cables run along the perimeter, their bodies taut as they pace back and forth.
Without a doubt, they’d scare off intruders. I’m frightened just looking at them from the safety of the car, and I love dogs.
We pull up in front of a warehouse. Gualtiero gets out, but I stay seated.
My lord and master hasn’t specifically told me to come, so I decide to wait. I have no desire to see what kind of business he conducts inside that building. But clearly, that’s not what he has in mind.
Alonso opens my door moments later and gestures for me to follow. So much for that.
By the time I reach Gualtiero, he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through a set of steel doors.
The air inside is cool, almost sterile, and rows of large containers are stacked one on top of the other, stretching into the distance.
It feels… controlled. Like nothing leaves here without Gualtiero’s say-so.
He ushers me into a small room with a desk and a sitting area. “I won’t be long. Wait here,” he says before turning and walking out.
The second the door closes, I spot the computer on the desk.
My heart leaps.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ve been handed a chance. If I’m lucky, it won’t be password protected and I can alert Rhia.
I rush over and drop into the chair, my fingers already reaching for the mouse as I jiggle it to wake the screen.
Come on…
But before I can even focus on what’s loading, the door opens again.
Alonso steps inside and raises a questioning eyebrow when he sees me at the desk.
Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
“Why don’t you sit over here, Miss O’Neil,” he suggests, pointing to the sofa. “There are refreshments on the side table you might enjoy.”
“I’m quite happy right here,” I reply, meeting his gaze.
“As you wish. But you won’t be able to get into that computer.”
How kind of him to inform me. Still, I won’t believe him until I see it for myself.
Deliberately, I turn back to the screen and activate it. A second later, a login window appears, demanding a password.
Damn.
“Well, I guess it’s your lucky day, Alonso. Now I won’t have to knock you out,” I say, and he lets out a quiet chuckle.
Could I have knocked him out?
My gaze flicks around the room, searching for anything that could double as a weapon. The lamp on the side table, maybe? No. Too light. Useless.
Sighing, I lean back in the chair.
The computer was never an opportunity. Just a reminder of what I don’t have access to.
Still, that doesn’t mean I’m about to make things easy.
Defiantly, I prop my feet up on the desk, making sure my dress stays firmly in place. If he wants me to sit quietly and behave, he can keep dreaming.
About ten minutes later, the door opens again and Gualtiero returns.
If he’s surprised to find me at the desk, he doesn’t show it.
I drop my feet to the floor but remain seated.
Santino enters behind him, followed by a dark-haired Italian woman.
I know her.
Heat rushes to my face at the memory.
“Ella, this is Oriana.” Gualtiero motions to the woman standing next to Santino. “I believe you’ve met,” he adds, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Oriana is the woman who ended up with the lizard in her hair.
So Gualtiero knows about the ball-sack-biting-lizard incident.
Which means she wasn’t just there by chance. She was watching me.
Great… just great.
Our gazes lock.
Up close, there’s nothing soft about her. Her face is composed, unreadable, but her eyes are cold as they assess me, sharp and deliberate, like she’s already decided exactly what I am.
Did she have a gun that day?
Where would she have hidden it?
She was the only one who didn’t go swimming. And the way she reacted, fast, precise, tossing the lizard into the bush without hesitation…
It all makes sense now.
Do they train for stuff like that?
“Oriana is assigned as your security detail, along with Alonso,” Gualtiero says. “Under no circumstances are you to go anywhere without them. Is this understood?”
I widen my eyes at him. Is he seriously expecting an answer?
“They’ll take you to the spa for a massage now,” he continues. “I’ll see you for lunch at one o’clock at Sergio’s.”
He steps closer and bends to kiss my forehead.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Oriana watching us.
She’s glaring. And not subtly, either.
Wow. What did I ever do to her? Other than throw a small reptile in her direction.
As Gualtiero straightens, her attention shifts to him, and something in her expression changes. Her eyes soften, just for a second.
Well, isn’t that interesting? I think she has a crush on him.
Guess I won’t be getting a Christmas card from her.
After Gualtiero leaves, Alonso opens the door. “Shall we, Miss O’Neil?”
So formal now. Gone is the man I laughed with while speed-stacking cups on the island.
God, I wish we were back there.
Oriana walks out first, and, like the obedient lamb Gualtiero wants me to be, I follow, letting Alonso fall in behind me.
Let them think I’m compliant. I need them to trust me.
It’s the only way I’ll get a real chance to run.
Outside, I slide into the backseat of the SUV, the security screen lowered again. I watch Oriana as she circles the car and slips into the front seat, giving Fabio a brief nod.
She’s dressed like the others, black suit, white shirt. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail.
There’s nothing remarkable about her at first glance. She’s not particularly pretty, but also not unattractive. The longer I look, the more deliberate it feels.
Everything about her is… muted. Blended. Like she’s designed to disappear into a room until it’s too late to notice her.
Alonso slides in beside me, interrupting my assessment. Three more men pile into the car behind us, and we pull away.
As I glance out the window, another car rolls up to the entrance. Two men step out and drag a disheveled man from the back seat. He’s kicking, struggling, shouting something I can’t make out as they haul him toward the building.
My stomach turns. I don’t want to know what’s waiting for him inside.
I turn away, forcing myself to look at anything else, and draw in a slow breath.
What has he done to end up here?
Is he a criminal?
Or just someone who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time… like me?
At the spa, I choose a package that includes an extra-long massage, a facial, and a pedicure. It sounds heavenly, and I can’t wait.
And it’s long. Three hours, to be exact.
The longer the better. It will make me late for lunch. It’s my way of rebelling, and more importantly, it gives me time to think without constant interruptions.
To my horror, Oriana follows me into the treatment room.
What the…?
The reason for the sudden female guard becomes obvious. Damn Gualtiero for thinking of everything.
Part of me had hoped I might be able to slip away, assuming I’d be alone.
“You can wait outside,” I tell her.
Her cold eyes settle on me, and the disdain in them is unmistakable.
“No,” she replies, her tone just as sharp as mine. “I’m staying.”
Is she serious?
“To do what exactly?” I mutter, then louder, “That’s not necessary. Nobody’s getting into this room if you’re standing in front of it. There are no windows, no other doors.” I gesture around to make my point.
“I’m instructed not to let you out of my sight.”
That’s all I get.
She plants herself by the door, feet apart, arms crossed, like she’s guarding something far more valuable than me.
Great. That will really help me relax.
I exchange a look with Susanna, my massage therapist. She seems just as thrilled about the audience as I am.
She points to a three-panel screen in the corner, and I nod gratefully. A moment later, she unfolds it around the massage table, shielding me from Oriana’s constant glare.
Not perfect. But better.
The massage is exactly what I need.
As the tension slowly drains from my body, my mind begins to clear. Finally.
Before this Sicily trip, I listened to an audio series called Think Like a Spy on my commute to work.
It’s like my subconscious was preparing me for this.
The former spies talked about getting out of impossible situations. About control, patience, and thinking ahead.
Right now, I need all of it.
As Susanna works her elbows into the tight knots in my back, I focus, trying to pull those lessons back into place.
What stuck?
Not everything. But enough.
Mental toughness. That was the foundation.
Not hoping things will change. Not waiting to be saved.
Deciding you’ll win, regardless of the situation.
I swallow.
Because hoping Gualtiero will suddenly come to his senses and let me go? Not happening.
Once he decides something, he doesn’t bend. And right now, he’s decided I belong to him.
A cold clarity settles in.
So I need to be stronger than that. Stronger than him.
This isn’t about reacting anymore. It’s about control. My thoughts, my actions, my timing.
I’m not going to be owned by a criminal who thinks he can take whatever he wants. No matter how charming, how attractive, or how good in bed he is.
The version of Gualtiero I met on the island feels distant now. Almost unreal. That man laughed with me. Touched me like I mattered.
This one?
This one takes and expects me to fall in line.
It’s jarring, remembering how close I felt to him back then. How easy it would have been to fall all the way.
Part of me thought we could have had something real. But this?
This is built on something I can’t accept.
I can’t be part of a world where comfort is bought with someone else’s suffering.
I can’t look the other way.
Not for him. Not for anyone.
The decision settles. I’m getting out.
Not hoping. Not trying. I will.
The spies said to think long-term.
Define your objective. Everything else follows from that.
I’ve just defined mine.
Freedom.