The flight back and the first few days at home are a blur. I barely remember a thing from that time, and I sleep for hours and hours, day and night blending into one another and making me forget about my whereabouts.

Dad doesn't pry. He makes sure I'm fed and that I take care of myself, but I've switched on autopilot. I'm barely aware of what's going on as the days start to pass.

On the fifth day, I ask dad for my phone, and he refuses. I realize he's taken it away from me, worried Mason will try to make contact. My computer is gone as well, and I've never felt more isolated.

"I'm not going to call him," I tell dad.

He refuses to acknowledge Mason, hasn't said his name or anything about him since we got back. Now, his hands form fists at his sides and he looks away, like he can't bear looking at me anymore.

"I said no," he says simply, and with that, he leaves the room.

I listen on and hear the tell-tale sound of the lock turning. He's locked me into my own room, made me a prisoner in this goddamn house. I start to get antsy, wanting to get out, wanting to make sure I'm making the right decision. Doubt gnaws at me like an old friend, reminding me I never truly believed Mason loved me. Yes, he was fond of me, yes, he loved touching me. But he made it plenty clear he never fucking loved me in the first place.

Dad doesn't really talk to me either. Sometimes I wake up to find him in the room, leaving me some food on the desk or checking up to make sure I'm fine. He never says a word though, usually doesn't even reply when I'm the one addressing him. I've never felt so alone, not even when my mom passed away when I was seven.

Hours blend into days and the future looks bleak. I have no interest in getting out of the bed and moving on with my life. Every thought I have is preoccupied by Mason, thinking about what happened between us and how much of it was just a damn lie. I'm obsessed. I spend hours upon hours lying awake, worrying, daydreaming about him.

I don't know whether I regret my decision - well, it wasn't really my decision - to leave. I know I was upset when it all went down, but I never gave him a chance to explain.

Sometimes I wonder if he's trying to make contact. Maybe he's calling my cell in vein, maybe he's tried my dad's number and had another huge fight with him. I don't know, and I might never find out. My dad's made it plenty clear that I need to just move on.

Dad sees how upset I am and how lethargic I've become, and when a week passes, he lets me out of my bedroom. We never talk about what happened. He doesn't ask and I don't offer him any details. I wonder if he knows everything and what his version of the events that transpired is. I don't make an effort to find out.

It's a week later, I think, when I break down.

I beg dad for my phone and laptop again, and he refuses every single time. I sink down into a heap at his feet, sobbing like fucking crazy because I can't keep these emotions bottled up inside of me for much longer. I need to show him that I'm hurting, and I need to fucking talk to Mason.

Dad walks away from me, leaving me in a crumpled heap on the floor. He sends a maid to make sure I'm alright later, and I wonder if our relationship will ever go back to being the way it was before.

That night, I convince myself I'm dreaming when I hear Mason's voice downstairs. I toss and turn at night, imagining him coming back and demanding my dad let him see me. For a moment, I'm almost convinced it really happened, but when I ask my dad about it in the morning, he refuses to tell me anything.

I stop sleeping completely and my nights are spent tossing and turning the whole time, just waiting in limbo for something to happen. The days are passing so fast now, and I'm becoming aware that it's going to be fall-time soon. Time for me to go to school and put this summer in Italy behind me. I wonder if I'll even be able to do that.

The next day, I lie in bed awake just as dawn breaks outside. I get up on auto pilot even though it's much, much too early, and dress myself in one of the dresses I wore in Italy. I do my makeup, too, because I need something to do, and it's a good distraction.

I sit at my vanity table in my childhood bedroom, combing through the tangles in my hair and looking at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot from crying, my complexion pale, like it's already lost the tan I got in Italy. I look unwell.

I've just finished getting ready as the clock strikes 6 in the morning, and the door to my bedroom opens slowly.

I look at the intruder in the mirror, and my eyes widen in shock and surprise when I see Mason's broad form filling the doorway. I must be dreaming, because there's no way this is happening. No chance he's actually here with me.

I hear someone racing up the stairs as I stare at Mason, my eyes drinking him in. He's as handsome as he's always been, but he doesn't look well. I turn around in my chair to convince myself he's merely a mirage, a figment of my imagination. But when I look at him now, he's still standing there, as solid as he ever was.

"Cara mia," he says softly, his lips parting as the nickname slips from his mouth.

My whole body shivers when he calls me that, reminding me of a different time when those two words made me submit so freely.

In that moment, my dad walks up behind him, hitting Mason's head hard. The two men fall to the floor and I get up, my hands going to my face as I stare at them going at it for the second time in a row.

I don't just watch this time, though. I come in between them and try to separate them, and they stop brawling for a second to make sure I'm safe. I stand in front of my father, protecting him from Mason's punches, even though he hasn't even thrown any.

"Stop it," I hiss at them both. "Just fucking stop it already."

"Cara, get the hell out of my way," my dad says in a strained tone, trying to push me to the side. But I'm relentless, and there's not a fucking chance I'm going to move before we settle this once and for all.

My heart is beating loudly because Mason is so close once again. I've finally realized he really is here, looking at me with those hungry eyes, like he's trying to devour me with his gaze alone.

"Stop fighting," I tell them both again. "This isn't solving anything."

"Cara," Mason bellows out. "Let us sort this by ourselves."

"Don't I get a say?" I bite back. "Don't I get to decide what I fucking want?"

They both stare at me as I take a deep breath and walk away from them both. My skin is prickled with goosebumps and I'm desperate to be back in Mason's arms. I hate the way my body has betrayed me already.

"I need to explain," Mason tells me gently. "I wanted to show you those portraits, Cara, when the time was right. I want to explain everything. I want to make it fucking right."

I stare at him, waiting for him to go on. Even my dad seems to be listening for once. Mason runs his fingers through that dark hair of his, and my stomach hurts from being so close to him without touching him.

"They didn't mean anything to me," he explains. "I just wanted to make sure I knew how to take proper care of you, how to make sure you were... okay. I saw those women after I met you two years ago. I waited for you, Cara. I was trying to make things right before we even saw each other again."

"You bastard," my father snarls at Mason. "You think she can make a choice by herself in this state, when you're feeding her lies? She's convinced she's in love with you, you jackass!"

"Good," Mason tells him firmly, looking at me for confirmation. I avert my eyes. "I hope she fucking is, because I'm in love with her too."

With that, he comes at me, grabbing me by the thighs and lifting me up. I'm thrown over his shoulder in the next second, and I don't even fucking resist. He carries me out of the room, and after a moment's hesitation, my father follows.

"If you fucking hurt her," he bellows after Mason. "I'm going to kill you."

"Likewise," Mason says back over his shoulder.

"If you make her cry," my dad goes on. "I'll make you pay."

We make our way down the stairs and I don't even fight Mason as he carries me out of the house. I'm so fucking confused, my heart and my head pounding as I try to make sense of this situation. I don't have a clue if what's happening is what's right for me, but I know, without a doubt, Mason's the man I want to be with.

He sets me down in the front room, and my dad and I look at each other with tears in our eyes. I think I've already made my decision - I'm leaving with Mason.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I tell him softly, and he covers his eyes as he realizes this is really happening. "I need to go with him."

"Cara..."

His voice is hurt, but at least it isn't broken. He understands I need to do this, and though he my think it's a foolish decision, I hope I'll prove him wrong in due time.

"Take care of her," he orders Mason as he pulls me in for a tight hug.

I relish the feel of him against me, knowing it might be a while before I see my father again. He lets go of me after a while, angrily wiping at the traitorous tears in his eyes.

"I want to hear from you every day," he makes me promise. "Just so I know you're okay."

I nod.

This time, I'm not carried out of the house. Mason takes my hand and walks me outside, down the stairs and towards the car that's waiting for us. I see Filippe standing in front of it.

"Good to have you back, signorina Newton," he tells me as he opens the back door for me, and I give him a weak smile.

I take one last look over my shoulder, and seeing my father alone like that hurts, I'm not going to lie. But I know I owe it to myself to see if there's a future in store for Mason and me.

"Goodbye, Daddy," I say softly, then quickly look away and climb into the car. I can't stand looking into my father's hurt eyes.

Mason climbs in after me, and I stare at my father's figure as we drive away. The tension in the car is palpable, but neither of us says a word.

After a while, Mason's hand finds mine, and our fingers intertwine. We're still not talking as I lean my head against his shoulder, and let myself slowly drift off to sleep.

For the first time in a week, I'm not plagued by nightmares, and I sleep the whole way to the airport, and most of the plane ride home.

Home. Because that's what Mason's house is to me now, and hopefully, for a long time to come.