Chapter 11
Gemma
Towel-wrapping my hair, I stepped out of the en-suite. Breath hitched in my throat, and I clutched the fluffy material tighter to my damp skin.
A strange woman rifled through garment bags inside my bedroom.
Had she been in here the entire time I’d been showering?
Dresses, a rainbow of silk and satin, lined the walls like some exclusive boutique.
A row of designer shoes, the kind to grace influencers’ posts, sat alongside the racks—labels I could never afford, especially now.
I’d scheduled leave for my wedding, but the daycare expected me back already.
Alice, the manager, ran the daycare with a stone-hearted approach, and a stone-face to match; even the children were frightened of her.
She wouldn’t hesitate to fire me. I’d seen her sack Belinda for clocking in ten minutes late, so imagine me—gone for weeks.
And I’d promised those kids I’d see them soon.
My chest tightened. Little Leo’s gummy grin flashed in my mind as he shoved brightly colored blocks into my lap, and Mia’s crayon-scented hands combing my hair, her voice brimming with confidence as she bragged about being the best braider in her family, and possibly the world. A pang of longing twisted in my gut.
The mansion bored me so much I looked forward to Enzo returning in the evenings.
Pathetic, I know . We ate dinner downstairs every night, much to my dismay, then moseyed in the garden for him to perform his little phobia experiment .
As much as this place frustrated me, I couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at my lips.
The two Dobermans didn’t see me as a threat anymore, but were almost…
patient, careful with me. Who knew Lupo and Fico could be so gentle?
Here I expected nothing more than ferocious beasts.
I still feared them, but my fear lessened when Enzo stood near.
His presence, his authoritative demeanor, kept them in check.
Just like myself, the dogs knew better than to cross the man.
And he’d stood a little too close every time we ventured outside, the heat radiating from his body a palpable force beside me, as if he anticipated my need to latch onto him.
I swear he’d even grinned. Almost as if he wanted me to do so.
The Psychopath. I bet some sick part of him got a kick out of my phobia.
He still refused to let me call anyone, so no chance he’d let me contact work, despite my pleading these past two weeks. What on earth to tell them anyway? Sorry, I’m unable to come in. I’ve been… indisposed by… some unpleasant people. Yeah, have Sally cover for me.
“ Buongiorno , Gemma.” The woman bustled between hanging clothes, hangers clattering in her hands. “I’m Rosetta. I’ll be assisting you with your new wardrobe.”
New wardrobe? I ran a hand along the dresses, the silk a slippery caress against my palm. “I never asked for new clothes. Who arranged this?”
“I did.” His voice vibrated through me, a low hum against my skin… my bare skin .
Enzo lazed against the doorframe, his heated stare traversing my length.
My stomach flipped, the sensation… pleasant?
I squeezed the towel so tight, my knuckles whitened.
No, unpleasant, definitely unpleasant. The urge to tell him to get out of my bedroom sat on the tip of my tongue.
His bedroom. Whatever . “You’ve wasted your time.
” My sharp words made him straighten. If he believed he could buy my favor, he was sorely mistaken.
“You don’t have enough in your luggage.” His gaze snapped to mine, the fierceness no different from when he confronted his guard dogs. “You need more clothes. We have events coming up.”
How would he know what my luggage contained?
Had he been snooping? The nerve of the man!
His mere presence made my pulse race. I clenched my jaw, resolve zapping through my veins.
“I will not go anywhere with you.” The afternoon strolls were a different scenario—my one escape, a breath of fresh air since I was trapped in this house all day.
Psychopath knew it too, knew I wouldn’t dare step outside with those dogs around.
But to attend social events on his arm, pretending we were some blissfully married couple? I scoffed. “Not a chance.”
“You will if you know what’s good for you.” He stalked right to me and tipped my chin. “Don’t make this an ordeal. Pick a few outfits. Not too hard for a woman, right?” He pinched a strand of my hair that escaped the towel. His gaze narrowed at the damp lock sliding between his fingers.
I used his distraction to my advantage. “What type of events are we talking about here?” More mafia weddings? Gangster summits? What on earth could be so important I required designer gowns?
“We’ll discuss them later.” His gaze flickered to my lips, a muscle twitching near his eye. “Right now, I have to leave for an important conference.” He stepped back, his movements abrupt, jerky, as if he fought to drag himself away.
Important conference? I imagined him in a back alley, bludgeoning some poor guy for not paying up. “What’s on the agenda today? You need to fill some boots with concrete and dump someone in the sea?”
He froze in his tracks, rubbing at his nape as he turned to face me again. “Excuse me?”
I pressed, heedless of my tongue. “Are you planning on leaving a decapitated horse in someone’s bed?” I bet his family inspired the scenes in those movies.
He squinted, his stare cold. “You think I’m a mobster?”
I smacked my hands on my hips. “You’re related to some big-league don. I know what you are.” Besides, being drugged and abducted implied criminal activity. Mafia activity!
He slid his hands into his pockets, a smugness tightening his jaw. “Ever heard of Cammarata Co?”
“No.” Did he and his mob-squad have their own certified logo?
“It’s a construction supplies company.” He tilted his chin, his voice a tad boastful. “My company.”
He’s the CEO of a manufacturing company? Perhaps the business masqueraded as a front. “So… no criminal activities on the side?”
“For your information, no.” His glare could have cut glass. “I’m not affiliated with my mother’s side.”
Not in the mafia? “Then why the guards? This whole estate is a fortress, and you carry a gun.”
He looked toward the ceiling, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. “Just because I’m not connected with my mother’s family doesn’t mean we don’t share their enemies. The guards, the guns… it’s all necessary.”
“Oh.” I stared at the glossy tiles. How had I been here this long and missed this about him?
“Yeah, oh .” Derision laced his tone. “Maybe you’ll get your facts right instead of accusing me of working for the mafia.”
Could he blame me? After everything he put me and my family through? My fingers twitched, itching to hurl something at him. “I guess between the whole kidnap and forced marriage drama, asking about your occupation slipped my mind.”
The red-faced assistant glanced between us and tweaked the hem of her top.
Poor woman, I almost forgot she stood in the room. She was just doing her job, so rather than giving her trouble, I prowled to the clothes. “Ready?” Not as though I cared about the items, but they were a good distraction and a way to dodge Enzo.
Her taut, penciled brows eased, and she unhooked two dresses from the racks. “Try these on and tell me if you like them.”
Enzo grasped the hint he was being ignored and strolled to the door. “See you this afternoon, Gemma.”
With a flippant hand, I waved him away, not bothering to bid him goodbye.
I tried on the chosen gowns, plus a few others, not finding anything suitable to my comfort or style.
Most of the garments revealed too much cleavage, too much thigh, making me squirm in my reflection.
Rosetta complimented each ensemble, praising my lean figure.
I matched each look to different shoes without complaint, just wanting this entire session over with.
We finished up, and she mentioned charging the bill to Mr. Cammarata’s account.
You betcha! Why should I pay for unnecessary items?
He wanted a wife. He could foot the bill.
Heck, next time I’d purchase more. Bleed him dry.
Tapper and Scar helped dismantle the racks and cart the stylist’s items out of the room.
Rosetta smiled and nodded at the garment bags piled on the bed. “Mr. Cammarata will be pleased with your choices.”
Enzo, pleased? Nothing ever pleased the man. While the outfits were gorgeous, they in no way matched my style and made me feel highly exposed. I didn’t care to please the man, and found no satisfaction in the new dresses. They were a cage, another means of control disguised in a pretty package.
Rosetta hurried to pack her receipt booklet and pen into her purse. “I hope to see you again. It was a pleasure assisting you.”
“Thank you.” I offered the polite woman a soft smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, just running a little late to my next client.” She waved goodbye and closed the door behind her, and as she did, a bump resounded in the room.
A dark object lay on the rug, the very item responsible for the muffled thud.
A cell phone, half concealed by a shoe box.
My heart quickened in my chest. Rosetta’s phone!
Adrenaline washed over me and I raced toward the device, picking it up.
Here in my hand sat an opportunity I’d been waiting for.
A chance to contact the outside world. A chance to hear Papa’s voice.
I swiped the phone, releasing a breath when it unlocked without asking for a code.
My bedroom remained shut, but just in case, I backed away toward the locked balcony doors, distancing myself from any sudden intruders wanting to enter.
Punching in Papa’s number, I waited as the phone rang, but no answer. I hung up, peered again at the solid shut door, my heart hammering in my chest as if I’d committed a crime rather than a basic human right to contact my loved ones. I tried again, this time calling the florist he owned in town.
“ Negozio di fiori .”
“Anita?” I cupped the phone to my mouth. “It’s Gemma. Where’s Papa?”
“Gemma?” The way she echoed my name, her voice tinged with dread. “Haven’t you heard? Your father’s in the hospital.”
I gripped the edge of the dressing table, almost dropping the phone. “What? Why?”
“He suffered chest pains yesterday.” A customer in the background thanked and bid her a good day. “He admitted he’d neglected his meds.”
Forget quiet. “Is he all right?” I all but shouted down the line.
“I hope so.” A slight pause greeted the other end of the line. “I’ll contact the hospital later this afternoon once my shift is over.”
“Okay, Anita.” I rubbed at the imminent headache assailing my temples. “Thank you.” About to hang up… the door flew open.
Rosetta stood there, eyes wide, hand pressed to her mouth as though she’d seen a ghost.
A wave of nausea washed over me.
“What… what are you doing?” Her voice trembled as she stepped inside the room.
Think. Fast. “You left it behind.” I held out the device, praying she took it without an interrogation, but also not wanting to let the phone go since this was my sole connection to the outside world.
No doubt Enzo laid out the rules for Rosetta when assisting me, just as he had with every other staff member.
“Here, take it. You don’t want to be late for your next appointment. ”
She rushed forward, her quick steps bouncing the bag off her hip. “I realized I didn’t have it once I got into my car. Thank you.” Snatching the phone, she shoved it in her purse and darted out of the room.
No phone meant I had no way of contacting the hospital to check on Papa. But I couldn’t loiter around here, driving myself mad with worry. Consequences aside, I raced from the room, my heart hammering in my chest as I dashed for the dinette where I knew to find the staff.
Soft murmurs sounded outside the kitchen door, and I stormed inside.
Enzo’s mother stood mid-chat with the cook and maid.
Good, someone with authority in this place.
Just the person I needed. “Carina, help me.” I circled the island counter and interrupted her orders to the staff.
Her gaze roamed me from head to toe as though a cockroach approached.
“My father is sick, and I need to see him.”
Carina swiped her tongue over teeth. “Get out of my face, girl. I have no patience for you today.”
“Listen to me!” I slammed my hands on the cool marble top. “My father is in the hospital.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I heard you. Now get out.”
The other staff members bowed their heads, avoiding eye contact.
I perceived their muteness. “You’re all horrible,” I whispered in sheer anguish.
Defeat suffocated me as if trapped behind a closing-in wall, screaming for help, but no one cared to even listen.
Hot tremors coursed through my veins, the intense displeasure consumed me in an unprecedented way.
I scowled over the kitchen with a sole desire to bring this entire place crashing down.
A stack of porcelain plates on the marble island sat there, too inviting to ignore.
I grabbed one empty dish, gripped its cold edges, a coldness mirroring those who stood around me doing nothing.
The blood in my veins no longer fizzled with anger, but a desperate attempt to break free from this helpless feeling.
I lifted the ceramic high and used all the strength in my body to throw the plate to the mosaic tiles.
The loud smash fluttered my insides with twisted satisfaction, the first sense of peace and freedom I felt since stepping foot into this mansion.
This was what Carina wanted, right? For me to break?
I’d break… I’d break every last thing in sight.
Grabbing another plate, I did it again. Several pieces shattered to the floor, flooding me with a euphoric glow, with a sense of controlled chaos.
Goodbye to the little prisoner they expected; hello to the new, unhinged Gemma Cammarata.