Chapter 5
Five
Harper
After twenty-four hours, Zeke’s fever breaks, which is a relief because I can’t send him to daycare if he’s contagious.
I’ve been sleeping in Zeke’s room, on the twin-sized mattress tucked against the wall.
Zeke seems to be thrilled with the company, climbing into bed with me every morning and even in the middle of the night when he wakes up.
Which means less sleep for me.
The kid sleeps sideways, hogging not only all the blankets, but also the entire bed.
Repeatedly, I’ve tucked him back into bed, but he keeps making it a habit to climb into my bed, which worries me because I don’t want it to be a bad habit when he’s a little older.
Luca barely speaks to me, except for the occasional nod or good morning when we see each other off—he heads to practice early with Ashton and Liam, I’m studying before Zeke wakes, and I have to take him to daycare.
I have a full day of classes lined up today—communication, astronomy, and statistics. As an advertising major, they’re all required classes, but the comms class is by far the easiest for me.
I meet up with Kensley for lunch. It’s the first time that we’ve seen each other since I left town.
“I heard you were back,” Kensley says as I carry my lunch tray to the table.
She’s got some bruising around her wrists, and when she notices me staring, she covers the darkened marks with her sleeves.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” My voice drops lower. “Did they hurt you?” I ask.
Nova and Ashton enter the dining hall and head in line to grab pizza. We don’t have much time to talk privately.
Kensley shakes her head. “Not physically. I mean the restraints left some marks, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
“I still have your credit card.” I reach into my backpack and retrieve it, passing it across the table to her. “I’ll pay you back for everything—”
“I know. Don’t worry about it right now.” Kensley grabs my hand that’s on the table, the one where I’m wearing a wedding band. “You went through with it,” she gasps, the evidence staring back at her.
“Didn’t have much of a choice.” I refrain from mentioning how Luca’s father insisted that I marry Ashton instead of Luca. That part hardly seems important now that I’m married to Luca.
“Shit,” she mutters between bites.
I ordered a salad for lunch, not incredibly hungry, and picked at the lettuce. I’ve mostly eaten around it; the diced carrots and cucumbers have gained more of my attention.
“How are you doing?” she asks, watching me.
“Fine. Luca’s not talking to me; well, mostly he’s ignoring me.”
“Sounds like a healthy marriage.”
I snort at her joke and reach for my water, taking a swig. “We’re sleeping in separate bedrooms. But I get it. He’s pissed.”
“He’ll come around,” Kensley says. “I mean, you’re married. He can’t go his entire life avoiding you.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I grumble under my breath and stab at my salad.
“Hey!” Nova says as she grabs a seat at our table. “I heard the big news. Let me see the rock.” She holds out her hand, waiting for me to deposit my hand in hers.
I lift my left hand, which houses a simple gold band. “No rock. Just wedding bands,” I say.
“I can’t believe I missed the wedding! I’m going to kill Dad for making us leave the house early.”
Kensley shifts uncomfortably and pushes the remainder of her sandwich aside, uneaten. She seems to have lost her appetite, not that I blame her. I don’t know exactly what she went through, but it couldn’t have been good.
Does Nova have any inkling of what happened with Kensley?
“I’m going to head out. I have class and I should get there early; it’s across campus,” Kensley says, excusing herself as she grabs her backpack and then her trash to discard.
“I’ll catch you later?” I ask.
But she doesn’t meet my stare.
“Yeah, maybe. I know where you live. If I have time, I’ll stop by.” Kensley jets out of the dining hall like it’s been set ablaze.
“That was odd,” Ashton mutters and glances at Nova. “How’s the pizza?
“Pretty decent for cardboard.” Nova glances over her shoulder in the direction Kensley disappeared. “Is everything okay with her?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. She had some marks on her wrists—” I say.
Ashton clears his throat. “Moreno escorted her down into the basement when we realized she’d helped you run away.”
I push the salad aside.
The small appetite that I had vanishes.
“Moreno tortured her.” I glance up at Nova.
“Dad wouldn’t do that. He insisted that we return to campus to protect Kensley. It’s why he drove us home himself. He was keeping Matteo from interrogating her.”
“Did you see the marks on her wrist?” I reiterate.
“No,” Nova says. “Dad wouldn’t hurt one of your friends. I mean, I’m sure he sat her down for questioning, demanding to know everything she knew, but he wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say, reaching for my water and taking another sip.
“I know my father,” Nova says. “He follows orders, but he wouldn’t hurt Kensley. He wouldn’t hurt a girl. That doesn’t follow his code.”
I bite my tongue. Sure, they wouldn’t hurt a girl, but they sure as hell would kidnap a little boy.
Nova is either na?ve or in denial. Either way, discussing it any further seems irrelevant.
“If you’re upset about what happened in the basement, maybe you should ask Luca,” Ashton says. He finishes the slice of pizza and wipes his hands on a napkin, his dark gaze staring right through me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Luca was the one doing the questioning. He interrogated Kensley.”
The air leaves my lungs, and I can’t breathe. “Where can I find Luca?”
“We both have philosophy after lunch. You can walk with me. I normally run into him on the way to class.”
After lunch and before my next class, I ambush Luca on his way to philosophy. Turns out, both his class and my statistics class are in the same direction.
Ashton gets the hint and falls behind a few paces, letting me catch up with Luca and allowing us some semblance of privacy.
“You look frosty,” Luca says, glancing at me.
“I’m steaming,” I snarl and fall in step with him. “You interrogated Kensley?”
Luca clears his throat. “That’s a bit harsh a word. I questioned her.”
“She has marks on her arms. She was restrained,” I say and grab Luca’s arms, stopping him from walking any farther. I need answers.
“I didn’t put her in that chair, Moreno did. I just asked the questions.”
“You also didn’t let her go,” I say, guessing he wasn’t there to save her.
Luca shrugs.
I hate that I’m right, that he found it necessary to interrogate her because of me.
“Did you hurt her?” My hand remains firmly planted on his arm.
He yanks away from my touch. “No!” Luca huffs and takes a step back.
I wait to see if he’s going to run away from me, but he doesn’t. He stands there, avoiding my harsh stare. His gaze is on the ground and then his feet. “She knew things. You told her about my family.”
I inhale sharply. “I didn’t have a choice.”
His gaze lifts to meet mine. It’s filled with fury. “There’s always a choice.”
“Right. Like I could have asked you for a bus pass and money to get my ass out of town.” I roll my eyes at him, annoyed that he thinks spilling that secret came easy to me. I was terrified for Kensley, but I did what I thought was best for all of us.
He still doesn’t see that.
Instead, he’s fueled with rage and hatred toward me.
“I told you, anywhere you run, my family will find you.”
Turns out, he was right about that. Luca and Ashton managed to track me down. “I should have paid in cash,” I mutter.
Luca growls and invades my personal space, his hand on my hip. “You should have told me your plan. I could have helped you escape.”
“But you just said—”
“I know, but I would have led them astray.”
I pull away from him. “I don’t believe you,” I say. “You kept telling me there wasn’t another choice. Anywhere I run, they’ll find me. Your family has friends in other cities, states, probably other countries.”
“All truths,” Luca says matter-of-factly.
I toss my hands up into the air. “You’re full of shit, Luca. You’d never let me go!”
“You’re right. As my wife, you are bound and tied to me, forever.”
There’s a fire in his blackened gaze, and I step back.
Luca Ricci hates me.
Most of my classes this semester aren’t too bad, except for statistics. I’m drowning in numbers and formulas.
After a terse discussion with Luca and then a dreaded statistics class, I’m seated in the study lounge in the house, going over the day’s homework assignment.
It’s all a bunch of nonsense.
Kind of sums up my life.
“You look either confused or really constipated,” Ashton says as he walks by.
“I hate statistics.”
“Oh, I took that last semester. Super easy.”
I snort. “For you, maybe. Any chance you took notes in that class?” Maybe I can make sense of his notes from last year and use them to understand what I’m trying to accomplish, because right now I’m drowning, all over again.
I thought economics was hard, but that was a breeze compared to this class.
“None that I saved. Here, let me help.” He pulls up a chair beside me and glances over the information that I have written down.
“Yeah, this is wrong.” He points at the homework assignment and my first two answers.
“Okay.” I exhale heavily and stare at him, frustrated. “I spent an hour on that. How can it be wrong?”
“I mean, it’s wrong,” Ashton says. He flips through my textbook and tries to explain to me how the example isn’t matching what I’m doing. “You’re just like way off,” he says and gestures with his hands.
“And you know this because—”
“Because I got an A in statistics and my minor is in forensic accounting. I know numbers. I can do them in here,” he says, pointing at his head.
“Show off.”
Ashton helps me erase my answer, and then he walks me through doing it the correct way. Which I’m not quite sure I understand.
He explains it again.
Overwhelmed, I scoot my chair back.
It’s not he’s a bad teacher; I’m just not getting it.