Chapter Forty-Seven Ella
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ella
Bile rises, the smoothie turning sour in my stomach.
Tiero is actually gloating to his brother about what he’s done.
How could I have been so stupid?
Why did I let myself get carried away like that?
I sneak out of the room and make my way to the front door. Once outside, I break into a run.
I want to escape my life and this mess I’ve created.
I thought things were different… or maybe not different, but at least back to what they were on the island. I didn’t imagine our closeness over the past few days.
Of course it couldn’t last.
The second he got what he wanted, he snapped right back into a domineering, controlling asshole, deciding we’ll get married so our baby is legitimate, like it’s already a done deal.
Fuck.
How can I ever trust him again after this?
I push myself faster, my skin damp with sweat, my body heating with every stride.
Where the hell am I in my cycle? Without my pills, it’s easy to lose track.
I finished my period a few days before I met Tiero, so it’s due next week. That means I should be okay, right?
Has my entire life really been turned upside down in less than a month? It feels like a lifetime.
And coming off the pill, it can take a while to fall pregnant. Surely, there should still be hormones in my system from it?
God, am I clutching at straws?
People get pregnant while on the pill.
Fuck. What am I going to do if I’m pregnant?
No. I can’t go there. Not now.
A cold, sick feeling settles in my gut.
I’ll know within a week. Meanwhile, I feel just as manipulated as when Tiero kidnapped me.
Why can’t he just talk to me like a normal person?
Just because I might not agree with him doesn’t give him the right to bulldoze over me and make decisions that shape the rest of my life.
Relentless fury courses beneath my skin. I must look like Mount Etna or Stromboli, ready to erupt.
My feet pound against the gravel path, faster, harder. I barely register the manicured garden beds I admired only yesterday, now nothing more than a blur at the edges of my vision.
I can’t believe he did this.
He must have a split personality.
There’s Tiero. The one I love. The man I want… swoony, fun, tender, open, vulnerable.
And then there’s Gualtiero, the mob boss. A domineering jerk who demands obedience, who manipulates and cajoles to get what he wants.
I want nothing to do with him.
I wish Tiero would show up more often, but even when he does, it only takes a second for him to snap back into that asshole alter ego.
Can I live with someone like that?
Do I even have a choice?
And now I’ve opened the door to sex again.
Argh!
I want to scream.
Damn my libido.
I have only myself to blame for this latest mess. Giving in to my body… to lust, to desire.
I should become a nun. Stay away from men and sex altogether. If I ever get away.
And he doesn’t even know anything is wrong, because I just lay there, dumbfounded, not saying a word.
Fuck, I can’t breathe.
I stop running and bend over, bracing my hands on my thighs as I drag in air. My chest feels tight, as if it’s being squeezed from the inside.
Tiero’s necklace dangles in front of my eyes. It’s a reminder of him I don’t want.
I need it off.
There has to be a way.
This stupid clasp was probably his idea, so I can’t take it off.
But why?
A thought sparks.
I grab the heart charm, inspecting it more closely. I bet there’s a tracker in it. Or maybe it’s in the crown or the angel.
That’s how they always found me so easily when I tried to escape. It makes perfect sense.
Further down the path, a gardener is pruning a bush.
Pruning shears… that should do it.
I rush to him and gesture for the tool. He hesitates, confused, but hands it over. Without thinking twice, I lift it to my neck and cut through the chain, catching the necklace as it slips free.
A sharp, breathless laugh escapes me.
God, this feels good.
Like I’ve just taken back a tiny piece of my freedom.
The gardener stares at me, mouth slightly open, but I just smile, hand the shears back, and head for the lake.
Before I can second-guess myself, I fling the necklace into the water. It disappears beneath the surface without a trace.
I’ll probably regret that later.
But right now?
Fuck being his princess. His cuore mio. His angel.
After sitting by the lake for a while, the urge to keep running doesn’t fade. If anything, it grows stronger, feeding off the anger and disappointment churning inside me.
I jog along the path skirting the property boundary. High, impenetrable walls enclose the estate. Cameras are mounted every few hundred feet, tracking the slightest movement.
As if that isn’t enough, guards patrol with dogs. They nod politely as I pass, then quickly avert their eyes. Tiero doesn’t like them looking at me, and they don’t want any trouble.
This place is a fortress.
Gardeners have tried to soften the prison feel with ivy along the walls, but it hasn’t taken yet. The stone still looms bare and unforgiving.
I much prefer our mansion in Sicily. At least there, you look out over the Mediterranean and don’t feel boxed in.
God, what am I saying? Our mansion?
Seriously, Ella?
Am I starting to accept this as my life?
No, I will never agree to being a canary in a golden cage.
I pick up speed, pushing harder, needing to burn this frustration out of my system. Even in the two weeks since I started exercising, my stamina has improved. I don’t gas out after ten minutes anymore.
Still, after another lap of the property, I slow, breathing hard, my chest tight from everything crashing through me.
The front gate comes into view just as it swings open. A removals truck rolls in.
The driver leans out the window, a rough-looking guy with a beard, arguing with the guards. The exchange escalates quickly. More men join in.
As I get closer, Mauro yanks the door open and drags the driver out, searching him for weapons while others check the back of the truck.
I take it all in as I jog past, curiosity flickering, but no one spares me a second glance.
I keep going.
This is supposed to be a workout, not a stroll.
When I pass the house, Tiero and Mateo are still on the terrace, deep in conversation. The sight of him reignites the anger inside me. Even though he can’t see my face, I glare in his direction.
At this rate, I’ll need ten more laps just to feel remotely better.
When I circle back to the gate, the truck is still there, but the scene has changed.
The driver is gone, as are most of the guards.
Only one remains, distracted, speaking into his phone while staring at the side of the truck as if describing it to someone.
I keep running.
And then it hits me.
Nobody is watching the other side of the truck. It’s completely exposed.
And the gate is still open.
Oh. My. God.
My heart stutters.
This is it.
The opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
I glance over my shoulder. No one is coming back.
Before I can think twice, I turn around and sprint straight through the gate on the unattended side of the truck.
Adrenaline floods me, surging through every muscle.
My mind narrows to one single point.
Freedom.
I run as fast as I can, my heart pounding in my throat. I don’t look back. I don’t give myself the chance.
There is no shouting, no alarms.
Did I actually get away?
Maybe no one noticed.
I don’t even know how, but I pick up speed.
The estate sits on the outskirts of Monza, the surroundings still semi-rural. I follow the main road toward town, my feet pounding against the pavement.
Gradually, the streets fill with more people. I dart down one street, then another, weaving past shops and cafés.
I don’t slow down.
My heart is hammering, my body running on pure adrenaline.
I can’t feel my legs anymore, but they keep moving.
People stare as I rush past, as if I’ve lost my mind. Like I’m being chased by a hungry mob of wolves. And in my mind, I am.
God only knows what Gualtiero will do this time if they catch me.
Now that we’ve slept together, the no-touching rule is probably gone.
I push harder.
Faster.
Like someone is right behind me.
My ponytail loosens, strands whipping into my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t stop. I don’t even slow.
I don’t know how long I’ve been running when my body finally forces me to take a break.
I bend over, dragging in air.
For the first time since I bolted, I risk a glance behind me.
Nothing.
Everything looks… normal.
I’m in the center of Monza now. Locals and tourists move through the streets, relaxed and unaware. There’s an energy in the air, a buzz building for the race weekend.
I spot a bench and drop onto it, my heart racing like it’s trying to break out of my chest. I brace my forearms on my thighs, my breathing uneven as I try to pull in enough air. Sweat soaks through my clothes.
And yet… my mind is clear.
Sharp.
Focused.
I’ve thought about this before. Prepared for it.
I can do this.
I reach into the pocket of my exercise shorts. My fingers close around the credit card. Thank God, it’s still there.
The rough plan I’ve carried in the back of my mind surfaces.
Step one, get as much cash as possible.
Step two, find a disguise.
Step three, get the hell out of Monza.
Easy.
Right?