She wraps her arms around her midsection. “I’m scared it will happen again. Something bad.”
“I get that. I’m not going to pretend any relationships are easy in this world. Most of my friends were related to me or they were sons and daughters of men who worked for my father. It made them more compatible for friendships.”
“Here, we’re on our own. It’s Dem and Ras and all of his hired guards. There aren’t any other big families on the island.” She sniffs. “It’s on purpose, so that-” Her mouth slams shut, and she shoots me a cautious look. She was about to say something she shouldn’t.
She’s vulnerable enough to probably tell me more if I press her, but my conscience holds me back. Instead, I give her a smile. “I can be your friend. Trust me, our friendship can hardly put me in a situation worse than the one I’m already in.”
She lets out a watery laugh. “I suppose that’s true.” Sighing, she looks out toward the water. “I should go back to my room. Dem told me I can’t spend more than thirty minutes here with you.”
I roll my eyes. “He wants me to die of boredom.”
“I won’t let that happen,” she says as she climbs off the bed. “In fact, I have an idea.”
“Hmm?”
She wraps her hand around the door handle and looks back at me. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. Let me talk to him first. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
VALENTINA
The following morning, Martina comes with a pile of clothing instead of her usual food. She hands it to me. “We’re going to spend the day by the pool,” she announces as an excited smile lights up her face.
In my shock, I manage to utter a single word. “How?”
“Dem agreed to let you out of your room with the condition that we’ll have two of his scariest guards keeping watch over us. Abbott is an ex-MMA fighter who bit an ear off his opponent, and Clyde kind of looks like that guy in Game of Thrones who played the Mountain.”
I place the clothes on the bed. “Haven’t seen it, but that name alone paints a clear picture.” Scary guards or not, the prospect of finally seeing something other than four cream-colored walls around me sounds like heaven. Not to mention it’s an opportunity for me to look for possible escape routes. The longer Damiano avoids me, the more I worry about my fate. Why hasn’t he come to see me in the past three days?
“I’ll wait outside while you change,” Martina says.
I dig through the bathing suits. They’re all bikinis that look too small for me. I decide to pair a black bottom with a neon-green triangle top that covers a bit more than the other two options. There’s no mirror for me to check my reflection, but I suspect it all looks a bit vulgar. With a sigh, I remove the old bandages from my wrists, tie a thin white cover-up around my waist, and walk up to the door. “Ready.”
Martina takes a peek at me and gives me an encouraging smile. “You look great.”
Tugging my top in place, I shoot a glare at the two guards standing just outside the door. They really are enormous, like two flesh-covered grizzly bears with scowls to match.
“Not getting into your bathing trunks?” I ask them.
Quickly, their expressions grow even more grim. The one with the shaved head addresses Martina. “Why is she wearing that?”
Martina purses her lips and adjusts her posture. “We’re going to the pool.”
It appears the guards weren’t informed of that detail.
“That’s not what Señor De Rossi approved,” one of them says.
“He said she can come out of her room if the two of you are around us at all times.”
“As long as she stays inside the house.”
“The pool is a part of the house, isn’t it?” Martina challenges, displaying a backbone I didn’t realize she had. “It’s completely walled off.”
“That is not what your brother had in mind. You can’t go there.”
“My brother will be very upset to learn you prevented me from getting some sunshine,” Martina says.
The guards look at each other. The quiet one’s nostril’s flare with an exhale. He turns to me. “You do anything sketchy, and we’re taking you back here. One strike, and you’re out.”
“I take it you won’t be joining us for a swim?” I ask, feigning innocence.
They ignore me and wave us forward.
On the first floor, past the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows is the pool. Martina slides one of them open, and I step over the threshold, immediately feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. It’s a glorious Ibizan day.
A few loungers are scattered just ahead of us, and Martina plops down on one of them. I’m too eager to enjoy my tiny slice of freedom to stay still, so I walk up to the edge of the pool and peer down. The bottom is covered in colorful patterned tiles. Balancing on one leg, I dip my right toe into the water. It’s not cold, but cool enough to be refreshing.
I turn around at the sound of another person’s voice. Martina is talking to an older woman wearing a white uniform with an apron tied around her waist.
“Do you like rosé, or would you prefer champagne?” Martina asks me.
An incredulous laugh bubbles up my throat. I’m a prisoner here, but apparently, I get a choice of which wine I’d like to drink. “Rosé is great.”
I face the pool again and notice a gate that might be a way out of the compound, but to be honest, it doesn’t fill me with hope. The guards won’t let me get away. I’ll probably just hurt myself if I try running, and that will be the end of any future outings with Martina. Maybe I should just enjoy the rosé and try to talk to Damiano. He has to check on his sister at some point during the day, right?
“Is your brother around?” I ask Martina when the other woman leaves.
She pulls her loose summer dress over her head and tosses it to another lounger. Beneath, she’s wearing a shimmery yellow bikini. “He’s at Revolvr, but he should be back in the afternoon.”
“What time is it now?”
She glances down at her phone. “Eleven am.”
I sit down on the lounger next to her and eye the device. If I managed to steal it, who would I call for help? The only phone number I know off the top of my head is Gemma’s, and I can’t risk calling her when Papà is likely tracking all of her calls. He knows if I call anyone, it will be her.
The rosé arrives and with it, a spread of sliced fruits and veggies. Martina and I snack on the food and drink the wine, all the while talking about what TV shows we like. When we’ve thoroughly exhausted that topic, we start discussing books. She shows me the copy of Jane Eyre she brought with her. Then we move to her favorite topic of all-food. Hours fly by, and by the time we’re finished with our bottle, I’m tipsy, sweaty, and ready to go for a swim.
I dive into the pool and try to see how far I can make it without popping back out. I get about halfway. Not bad. My thoughts are sluggish from all the sun and alcohol, and the water’s not cool enough to sober me up as quickly as I hoped. I’m on my tenth lap when a soft breeze carries over a familiar voice. I whip around.
Damiano steps out of the house, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, black slacks, and his usual Italian-leather shoes. His gaze finds me immediately, and he looks at me as if I’m a clump of hair his pool boy forgot to fish out of the water the night before. I guess we’re back to him being cold. There should be nothing happening inside of me under that scrutinizing gaze, but instead, something hot and languid curls in the pit of my belly. I swim to the edge of the pool, place my palms on the deck, and lift myself out of the water. I can feel his eyes following my every move as I skip over the burning hot stones that sting the soles of my feet as I make my way to the loungers.
There’s a suited man behind Damiano that comes into my view. One good look at him is enough to make some blood rise to my cheeks. Wow, he’s attractive. Razor-sharp bone structure, thick dark brows that appear to be permanently knit together and piercing blue eyes. You make that kind of a man smile, and it’s game over-say goodbye to your heart.
I stop by Martina and grab a towel to dry myself off. She’s also a little pink in the face, and her furtive glances in the direction of the tall newcomer tell me maybe she isn’t asexual after all.
“How’s your impromptu pool day going?” Damiano asks his sister.
“Fun,” she says and gives him a smile.
His expression softens for a split second before he notices what’s on the side table.