Chapter Thirty-Seven Ella
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ella
After the credit card stunt this morning, I head to the kitchen, my procession of puppies trailing behind me. They never fail to lift my mood, and right now I need that.
The nerve of that man!
I grab a cup and pour myself some licorice tea from the pot that’s always ready for me. Settling onto a barstool, I watch Helena, Gualtiero’s chef, prepare an omelet just the way I like it, with kale and parsnip.
My thoughts drift back to waking up sprawled all over him. It’s happened before, and I have no idea if he pulls me toward him or if it’s me drifting to him during the night. I fear it’s the latter.
It’s becoming harder to resist him. Especially when he looks like that in the mornings, tousled hair, dark stubble, that sinful, just-rolled-out-of-bed appeal. And he smells so damn good it should be illegal.
His touch still ignites a fire in me, stronger than ever now that I refuse to give in to it. I pretend it does nothing, but I’m sure he sees straight through me.
He’s biding his time, certain I’ll cave eventually.
The credit card made that painfully clear.
Part of me is tempted. Not marrying him, obviously, but giving in… just a little. If I’m stuck here, why not enjoy Gualtiero until my opportunity to escape presents itself? Sex with him is…
My core throbs just remembering it. I miss his hands on me, his mouth, his…
Stop it.
No, if I give in, I’d only get hooked further, and Gualtiero would probably drag me to the altar the next day. I can’t do that to myself.
Please God, give me the strength to resist him.
I’ve been diligently working on my escape plans. My fitness is improving, but money remains the biggest problem. Without it, I won’t get far. And it has to be cash. Anything else can be traced.
Now I have a credit card. It’s not ideal, but usable.
I could withdraw cash from ATMs, but the limits here are low. Two hundred and fifty euros per transaction won’t get me far. I could hit multiple machines, but that takes time and leaves a trail.
Time I may not have.
Still, it’s the only option I have for now. I need it on me at all times, so I’ll only wear clothes with at least one pocket to hide it.
Helena places my omelet in front of me with a smile. I thank her, take my plate outside, and settle onto the terrace. As I sit, I pull the credit card from my pocket and stare at the name embossed on it.
My future name, if Gualtiero had his way.
I hate that a part of me likes it.
Mrs. Ella De Marco… it does have a nice ring to it.
God, what is wrong with me?
I shove that thought down hard, burying it where it can’t resurface, and push the card deep into my skirt pocket.
I can’t let myself be roped in like that.
The sound of footsteps makes me look up, and I see my least favorite person approaching.
What does Oriana want now? When we’re in Gualtiero’s compound, the guards usually leave me alone.
The look on her face makes it clear she doesn’t want this interaction any more than I do. Cold eyes meet mine when she stops a few feet away.
I study her in return as she scans me from head to toe with obvious disdain, probably wondering what Gualtiero sees in me.
Well, that makes two of us.
“Is there a reason you came over here?” I ask. I’m in no mood for her attitude.
“Signor De Marco is waiting for you in his office,” she says, her voice laced with distaste.
I’ve had enough of her sneers. Normally, I avoid confrontation. But not today.
“Why do you dislike me so much, Oriana?” I ask calmly. “What have I done to deserve it?”
Her glare sharpens, but there’s a flicker of surprise beneath it. She didn’t expect me to call her out on her rudeness.
“I’m here to do the job I’ve been assigned. Whether or not I like it is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is,” I counter. “Every time we’re in the same space, your dislike of me hangs in the air. It affects how you act. I’m not convinced your judgment is as unaffected by your emotions as you think.”
“I can assure you, Miss O’Neil, I have no problem separating my emotions from my work.”
Beside me, Brownie gets to his feet and growls. Milk follows, tiny but fierce. Only a few weeks old and already defending me. I almost smile.
I decide to push further.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” I say. “I think you wouldn’t mind if I took a bullet and disappeared from your life… and Gualtiero’s.”
Her jaw tightens.
“You might think you’re hiding it well, but you’re not. Your infatuation with Gualtiero is obvious.”
She swallows, a blush creeping up her neck until her entire face turns red.
I hit the mark.
She stays silent, but tension, want, and conflict flicker across her face.
“What? You have nothing to say, Oriana?” I press. “Does it bother you when Tiero touches me? When he looks at me like he wants to devour me? Do you wish it were you instead?”
Even as I say it, a part of me recoils. Taunting someone like this isn’t me.
But it works.
Her breathing turns uneven. Her composure cracks. She stares at her feet, biting her lip.
I step closer, only a few inches separating us now.
“Well?”
“You don’t deserve him,” she snaps at last. “You’re a distraction. A weakness he can’t afford. He’s slipping, and the whole organization is suffering because of it.”
She tries to intimidate me with a hateful glare, but I’m delighted.
Maybe she would help me. If only to get rid of me.
“I’m here against my will,” I say evenly. “You know that. That’s why you’re guarding me. To make sure I don’t leave.”
I watch Oriana closely as I speak, but her expression has gone stony again, giving nothing away.
“Wouldn’t your life be easier if I were gone?” I continue. “Think about it. Gualtiero would go back to the way he was. Focused. Untouchable. And you…”
I let the words hang for a moment.
“You might finally have a chance with him.”
The idea tastes bitter in my mouth. I hate it.
The thought of him with anyone else sends my stomach plummeting. My hands curl into fists.
“You understand his world,” I add, ignoring the jealousy rising in me. “You belong in it. Unlike me.”
Her eyes lock onto mine. She wants it. I can see it.
Her fingers tap against her leg, her gaze narrowing as she considers my words.
Then the shift comes.
The door slams shut.
“If you think I’d help you escape, you’re mistaken,” she says coldly. “He’s my don. I swore my loyalty to him. I won’t betray him.”
Her finger jabs into my chest.
“Your future is set. So you better be the best damn wife he could ask for, because you’re not getting away on my watch.”
She turns on her heel and storms away.
Shit. That didn’t go to plan.
Not that I had a plan to begin with. I saw an opening and went for it. Another impulsive move, another dead end.
Jeez, Ella. Think before you act.
When will I learn that this isn’t something I can wing?
She’s probably on her way to Gualtiero right now, reporting every word. Proving how loyal she is. And I’ve just made her even more valuable to him.
Fuck.
I drag a hand over my face.
It was a long shot. I knew that going in. Still, I thought her hatred of me might tip the scales.
It didn’t.
And now I’ve made things harder for myself.