16. Chloe
Chapter 16
Chloe
M y leg bounces involuntarily, and my fingers knot nervously in my lap. What’s he up to? Who is he talking to?
My eyes follow him as he paces back and forth, his hands gesturing animatedly while he talks on the phone. Is it my father on the other end? Or is he just playing games with me and dragging this out for as long as he can? Either way, I’ll get to the truth. I won’t rest until I know where he is—or, God forbid, what really happened to him.
Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. The longer he stays on the call, the louder his voice gets, though I can’t distinguish a single word from here.
I reach the stage where I’m ready to go over there, but as I stand, he abruptly ends the call, turns toward me, and starts heading in my direction.
“Well,” I say when he’s close enough to hear me.
“Well, what?”
“Don’t act coy with me, Mancini. Who were you on the phone with, and where is my father?”
He taps the tip of my nose with his finger, and I swear to God, I’m seconds away from snapping that digit right off his hand. “Patience is a virtue, bella ,” he grins.
“My patience with you and your games ran out days ago.”
When he extends his elbow toward me again, I slap it away. “What was that for?” he asks, his chuckle only adding to my frustration.
“You know exactly why. You are being obtuse, and it’s making me stabby.”
This time, he throws back his head and barks out a laugh. “You definitely inherited that fiery Italian temper. Come,” he says, reaching for my hand and tugging me toward the gazebo’s exit.
“Where are we going?” I ask, confused.
“To continue our walk.”
I yank my hand from his and fold my arms tightly across my chest. “I’m not moving until you give me the answers I need.” My voice trembles with frustration. “Please,” I add, though it sounds more like a plea than a demand.
“Calm down, amore mio .”
“I am not ‘ your love’ , arsehole … so stop calling me that. I swear on everything that’s holy if you don’t tell me where my father is this instant, you better start sleeping with one eye open.”
He presses his lips together, trying to hide his smile, and a flash of white light bursts behind my eyes. For a split second, I honestly think I’m having a stroke.
“Relax, Chloe. I’m just waiting for a callback.”
“From who?”
“You ask too many questions. Are we going to continue our walk, or are we standing here all day?”
“Oh, so you’re allowed to ask questions, but I’m not?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you just ask another question? ”
“That was a question too!” I shriek, reaching out to slap his rock-hard abs with the back of my hand. “Ouch.” My wrist throbs, still tender from when I jumped over the wall, and I’m pretty sure that hurt me more than it did him.
I clutch my arm against my chest, and the smile drops from his face. “Are you okay?”
He steps toward me, his hand reaching out, but I quickly turn away, giving him my back.
“ Bella ,” he says, his voice low and soft, laced with genuine concern.
“Leave me alone,” I say, feeling tears burn the back of my eyes. This man is so infuriating.
I’m not expecting him to wrap his arms around me from behind and rest his chin on my shoulder, but that’s precisely what he does.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and his warm breath against my skin makes all the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’m sick of my stupid body betraying me whenever I’m in this man’s presence; he’s the enemy. “I’m expecting a callback.” He looks down at his ridiculously expensive gold watch as he speaks. “Hopefully, you will have your answer in the next few minutes. Now, let me look at your wrist.”
I turn in his arms, and my eyes search his. Is he serious or just playing with me? “You promise.”
“Cross my heart, tesoruccio .”
“Do you even have one of those?” I ask, my eyes slightly narrowing as I ignore the fact that he just called me his ‘little treasure’ .
His full smile, in return, accelerates my heartbeat. And if I wasn’t already confused enough, he leans in and kisses my forehead. This man is such a conundrum, and my emotions are all over the place .
This time, when he reaches for my hand—the non-injured one—I don’t protest.
We keep walking in silence, our steps falling in that familiar rhythm.
Then, without warning, he bends down, plucking something from the ground. I give him a puzzled look when he holds it up before me.
“For you,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
I raise an eyebrow as I stare at the puff-like flower in his hand. “You’re giving me a weed? How romantic.”
“It’s not a weed …” he starts, his smile widening. “Well, technically it is. But have you never made a wish on a dandelion before?”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Of course it is. You never did this as a child?”
“No.”
“My brother and I used to do this when we were younger. My mother taught us. She told us to make a wish, and when you blow, the seeds will carry your thoughts and dreams to loved ones as they float away in the air.”
“And you believe that?”
“I was a kid … I believed everything my mother told me. Now stop being a spoil sport and close your eyes.” I feel silly, but I do as he asks. “Now make a wish and blow.”
I gave up wishing for things long ago but still play along. There are so many things I could ask for, including my freedom, money, happiness, and my mother’s return, but what I want more than anything right now is to know my dad is okay.
“I wish I could see my dad,” I whisper.
As if on cue, Alexander’s phone rings. He drops the stem to the ground below and reaches into his pocket. “Your wish is my command, amore mio .”
Tears rise to my eyes when he holds the screen before me, and I see my father’s smiling face reflecting back. “Daddy,” I cry. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I’m alive … why would you think otherwise?”
My eyes dart to Alexander, and his smug grin has returned.
“Where are you? How are you? I’ve missed you so much.” I have so many questions, but for now, I’m just elated to see he’s okay.
“I’ve missed you too, Chloe-bear,” he replies, and just hearing him say my pet name has tears brimming in my eyes. “I’m in rehab.”
“Rehab?”
“Yes, Alex didn’t tell you?”
My lips thin. “No, he didn’t,” I growl.
“It was his idea. It’s a swanky place too. The best money can buy. He thought it was time I pulled my head out of my arse and got the help I needed so that I could be a better man … a better father to you.”
When my startled gaze returns to Alexander, the smugness is gone. His hands are now shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers, and his eyes are fixated on the ground.
This man.
I move through my expansive closet, my fingers grazing the fabric of all the beautiful clothes hanging before me. I’m once again torn over what to wear, and I can’t help but notice how these trivial decisions have become my reality now.
I’m no longer weighed down by the relentless pressure that came with my old life, where I constantly worried about never having enough time to get everything done. The days of stressing over bills I can’t afford to pay feel like a distant memory. And with the knowledge that my father isn’t just okay but thriving and getting the help he desperately needed, nothing could dampen the high I’m riding.
And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better, Alexander invited me to a party with him this afternoon during lunch—Antonio’s daughter’s birthday.
I haven’t been to a celebration like this in years. Alexander was hesitant about bringing me along, but I reassured him there was no need to worry. I promised to be on my best behaviour. I owe him that much after everything he’s done for my father. Honestly, I’m just grateful to be getting out of the house for a while.
I have a few hours before we leave, so I’ll take my time getting ready. First on the agenda: soaking in the bath. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the luxury of doing that. Our old house had a bathtub, but no matter how much I scrubbed it—cleaning it within an inch of its life—it still looked too grimy to sit in.
Alexander’s personal shopper didn’t skimp on any purchases they made for me. I’m fully kitted out. I have a range of perfumes, moisturisers, hair accessories, and hair styling equipment to choose from, including a curling iron, straightener, and blow dryer.
For once, I’m prepared to put in the effort. I don’t want to do anything to embarrass Alexander in front of his friends.
If this party is anything like the Italian celebrations I attended as a child, this won’t be some backyard affair. No, this will have all the bells and whistles, the kind of extravagant celebration that leaves you in awe from start to finish .
If there’s one thing I remember about my culture, it’s that we don’t do things by halves. Everything is done in full force, with passion, flair and no expense spared.
I’m wearing a light-cream silk pantsuit, the perfect mix of elegance and understated sophistication. The soft hue gives it a fresh, airy vibe, while the silk fabric catches the light with a subtle sheen.
The straight-leg pants drape smoothly, creating a clean, streamlined, chic, comfortable silhouette. The matching sleeveless top adds a modern, delicate touch, revealing a hint of olive skin across my torso for a daring edge. It’s ideal for any upscale event … I hope Alexander feels the same.
I paired the pantsuit with chunky gold bracelets on both wrists, adding a touch of luxe to the otherwise neutral look. A few long gold chain necklaces drape elegantly around my neck. The soft gleam of gold against the cream silk creates a striking contrast.
To complete the look, my feet are adorned with cream, wedged, strappy heels, which add height while keeping everything grounded and comfortable.
My long, dark hair is down, falling in soft waves around my shoulders. I’ve added a few loose curls to my otherwise straight locks, giving it a natural, effortless look.
I don’t usually wear much makeup, so I’ve kept it simple today. A touch of bronzer on my cheeks gives me a subtle warmth, while the mascara I’ve applied to my already long, thick lashes makes my eyes pop with definition. It’s just enough to highlight my features without feeling overdone.
I pop the gloss I put onto my lips into the cream clutch purse and feel silly that, along with my ID, it’s the only thing I have in there. I don’t have anything else, like house keys or money. That thought is sobering, reminding me that my situation isn’t all it seems. At the end of the day, I’m still Alexander Mancini’s prisoner.