I felt something for him.
Then this morning, when he’d defended me, didn’t that mean something? And what about when he’d been so possessive when he’d seen Dominic in our room?
God, I was stupid.
His cell phone buzzed again, and I got up. He’d forgotten it in his rush. The latest text was on the screen.
“Are you getting my messages? I need you!”
The name of the contact read Natalie.
Natalie needed him?
And he’d dropped everything for her. In a fucking heartbeat, he’d dropped everything and run out of the house, not even remembering to take his cell phone with him!
Fine. That was fine. She was probably the reason he’d release me from my contract. He didn’t want me. I was a burden on him. He claimed not to have liked humiliating me last night, but he’d gotten hard doing it. He’d used me. He was getting off on it while he could. Probably cheating on Natalie while he was forced to keep me.
He made a fool out of me. I was a complete, fucking idiot.
He wanted Natalie? Fine. He could have her. He could fucking have her.
I walked into the bathroom that adjoined his study and dropped the cell phone into the toilet before I ran upstairs to my bedroom. I threw a few things into a duffel bag. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I wasn’t permitted to leave the grounds? I had to tell him where I was at all times?
He could go fuck himself. Or fuck her.
Fuck!
Flinging the duffel over my shoulder, I made my way to the garage. I knew they kept the keys to the cars there, and I’d seen the code Salvatore had punched into both the box that contained them and to open the gate yesterday. I was out of here. I was done.
Getting into a car was easy. Getting out of the garage easy. By the time I got to the gate, I saw Marco running down the driveway after me. I punched in the code to open the gate, but nothing happened.
“Shit.”
I tried again, one eye on the rearview mirror as Marco’s form neared. He ran fast.
I tried the code again, and again, nothing. I stopped, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Think. Think! You saw it yesterday!”
I tried again and exhaled in relief as the tall gates finally crept open, slow as fucking molasses. I inched the car forward, too aware of Marco just a few feet away as finally, finally, the gates opened wide enough that I hit the gas, the tires screaming against stones, kicking up dirt and rock and leaving him literally in the dust.
I grinned, seeing him pull his phone out and put it to his ear, no doubt trying to call Salvatore, tell him I’d broken one of his stupid rules. Too bad Salvatore’s phone sat in the toilet.
That made me laugh.
I didn’t calm down on the drive over to Isabella’s house. The opposite, actually. What was the point of all of this? Why take me when he wanted someone else? Why?
Because daddy said he had to if he wanted to be boss.
This was so fucked up. Salvatore’s father controlled him. He had to do what he did, or his father would take away what was his right. He’d give it all to Dominic. My life didn’t matter. What I felt didn’t matter.
Felt. No, I felt nothing. Nothing tender, at least.
But I was beginning to trust him.
The devil you know.
At least Salvatore’s indifference to me kept me safe. Franco or Dominic, they would do worse things to me. Of that, I had no doubt.
So why did his indifference hurt me? What did I want?
Isabella’s house looked empty when I got there. I pulled the car up in the driveway, far enough back that it wouldn’t be visible from the street. I wondered if she kept the spare key where we used to in case we locked ourselves out. But as I walked down the long drive back to the house, I saw Isabella’s face peer out of the kitchen window. I raised my hand in greeting, but she didn’t wave. Her face grew worried. I saw her rush from the window and throw open the back door.
“Lucia?”
I fell into her arms, tears breaking loose, although I couldn’t say exactly why. What would I tell her? How could I explain that I was jealous and hurt? That after all the things he’d done to me, all the things they’d done to me, I wanted him. Because I did. I wanted Salvatore.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
We walked inside and went right into the kitchen.
“Sit down.”
She pulled a chair out and set a box of tissues in front of me. She busied herself making some tea, casting glances my way as I blew my nose and mopped my face, forcing deep breaths in and out, trying to get myself under control. Isabella set a fresh cup of tea in front of me and then took the seat across from mine, taking a sip from her cup.
“What’s happened?”
How much should I tell her? I wasn’t worried about her judging me. I just didn’t want her to think me weak. Or worse, a traitor.