Chapter Thirty-Five Ella
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ella
After tossing and turning for the rest of the night, I wake a few hours later.
The conversation I overheard lingers in my mind. So does the realization that I’m not the only unhappy person in this house.
Even before I open my eyes, I sense Gualtiero in the room, watching me.
How did I not hear him come in, given my restless sleep?
I roll onto my side.
He lies fully dressed on top of the comforter, his gaze fixed on me.
We don’t speak but just watch each other.
He’s back to his usual calm, controlled self this morning. Like nothing ever happened.
I’ve never seen him rattled. Not even when he was nearly run over.
Which makes what happened the other night mean something. The way he lost control, how furious he was, says more about his feelings for me than he ever would. Even if it’s in a somewhat perverse way.
“I’m sorry about how your father died,” I say, breaking the silence.
Losing a parent, I know what that feels like. But having one murdered must be even worse.
“It was a long time ago,” he says quietly. “In my line of business, you don’t get to grow old.”
“Gee, you’re selling it well,” I say lightly.
“It’s the reality of my world.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “But however many days, weeks, or years I have left… I want to spend them with you, Ella.”
I swallow hard. He reaches for my face, his thumb brushing gently over my cheek.
Despite everything, some of my resolve to resist him slips away, my heart melting at his words.
“I will not lose you,” he says, more to himself than to me.
The words settle heavily between us.
“I will do anything in my power to keep you safe. But you have to help me do that, angel. No more running.”
His voice drops lower. “Give us a chance… please. We’re good together.”
The earnestness in his eyes reminds me of our time on his island. The way he looked at me then. The way he let me see something real.
It made me feel like I mattered.
His phone rings.
Relief hits me before I can stop it. I don’t know how to respond.
I’m so confused.
He listens, says nothing, then ends the call.
“I have to go, angel,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
The familiar, undeniable rush spreads through me. Some things don’t change.
His tenderness this morning chips away at my defenses.
He moves toward the door.
“Tiero,” I call after him. I need to tell him what I overheard.
He pauses and turns back. I sit up.
“Last night, I went to the kitchen for a drink. I overheard some of your men talking in German.”
His expression tightens almost imperceptibly.
“It sounded like they’re losing faith in you. In your ability to handle whatever is going on.”
I swallow.
“And they’re blaming me. For distracting you.”
His jaw clenches, the warmth fading from his eyes.
“Thank you, princess.” That’s all he says before he turns and leaves.
And just like that, I’m alone again, with too many thoughts and a heart that feels heavier than before.
I can’t deny I have feelings for Tiero. I suspect few people ever see his softer side, experience his care, or hear the joy in his laugh.
That’s what I fell in love with.
But it’s only a small part of who he is. Most of the time, it’s locked away behind something hard and impenetrable.
Could I love all of him? Could I even try?
He scares me like no one else ever has. That can’t be the foundation of a healthy relationship.
I don’t want to walk on eggshells. To constantly watch what I say or do. I might love him, but how can I be with someone I can’t be myself with?
I sigh as I roll onto my back.
If this were a romance novel, I would love him despite everything. I would believe there’s a good man underneath it all, and somehow, he would change.
But that’s not reality.
I’m not even sure Gualtiero is a good man.
I know very little about what he does. And what I do know isn’t good.
I want no part of a life where people get hurt or killed. Where everything is built on suffering and exploitation.
How could I live with that?
No matter how I feel about him, I can’t reconcile it with who he is and what he does.
And that doesn’t even account for the fact that he’s keeping me here in this gilded cage.
I have to find a way out.
And I have to be ready when the opportunity comes.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. Maybe not even in a month.
But it will come.
And I’ll be ready.
Failure is not an option. Given how furious Gualtiero was, I don’t want to know what he’d do next time.
When I finally succeed, I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I already feel sorry for the poor souls who are.
Today is Wednesday in week two of my captivity.
I have nothing meaningful to do, and it’s driving me insane.
I lean back in my chair by the pool and tilt my face toward the sun. Brownie sleeps in my lap, while Milk and Oreo stretch out at my feet.
There has to be something positive in all of this, besides my three little cuties.
I’ve become friends with Mariella. That’s something. She’s funny once she relaxes, sharper than she lets on. We play cards or backgammon, and lately she’s been beating me more often than not.
Alonso… as much as he can be, he’s a friend too. He looks out for me beyond what he has to. I baked him a cake yesterday, and he actually blushed when I gave it to him.
I let out a quiet breath.
What else?
I’m fed well. Too well. My favorite foods, every day.
There are clothes, more than I could ever need. Beautiful things that mean nothing to me.
The house is stunning. The grounds even more so. And still, it’s a prison.
At least my workouts are paying off. My body is getting stronger and my mind sharper. Every day I get a little closer to figuring out how to get out of here.
So yes, there are things to be grateful for.
Even if they don’t feel like enough.
Wednesdays used to mean yoga with Rhia. A chance to catch up and reset.
A tear slips down my cheek. I miss her so damn much.
I want to call her. Talk this through. Let her help me figure out a way out of this.
It’s the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking.
Does she suspect something? Or is she still buying the story about Africa and no reception?
Is someone still messaging her, pretending to be me?
I press my lips together.
Tiero’s plan to keep her busy and distracted is probably working. She’s likely won the proposal by now, given the whole thing was a setup. It’s a silver lining. At least she’ll benefit from this mess.
I close my eyes, remembering something our yoga teacher once said about light.
How even a small light can push back the dark.
Is that why I’m here?
Could I change things for the better?
At least it would make me feel less useless, like there’s a purpose to my gilded misery.
I open my eyes.
I need to believe it.
Mariella has been happier lately. That’s something.
And Alonso? I’ve seen him head to the kitchen a few times. Maybe I can do more for him. Support him somehow.
And Gualtiero… well, he didn’t hit me, even though he meant to punish me. That has to count for something.
I let out a slow breath.
Even here… even now…
Maybe there is a little light.