“Once the hotel is running smoothly, I want to take you and the baby to Brazil. There’s a city on the northeast coast—Recife. I’ve been looking into properties there. I think it’s the perfect place for us to raise the baby.” He leans in to nuzzle my nose. “We’ll need a place to get away when things get too crazy here. If you like it there, we can make it our permanent home when I retire.”

Thinking about the future with Nico piles more chains around my neck. His softening toward me started out gradually—the room with windows, excitement about the baby—and after our confrontation and rage with each other that night when he threw the book at my face, he’s had a gentler approach. Especially once he thought I was back. Recently, it’s more than that. Nico behaves like a man in love. Baby on the way, happy little family-to-be. I’m not sure what to make of it. He mostly seems like the old Nico. I’m constantly waiting for him to backslide into the gross, violent man I’ve seen, but he keeps surprising me. He doesn’t need me to pretend to be happy; he’s still twisted enough that he gets off on my misery. Payback for me leaving him those years ago. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for that, but he dotes on me and seems to be under the illusion that I want to be here. Or maybe he’s playing me just as I’m playing him. I don’t know which way is up anymore. The times I’m cold only add fuel to his fire—he blames it on my hormones.

“You make me feel so good, tesoro. The way you take whatever I give you. I know we’ve had a rough stretch here, but I think you have to taste the bitter to get to the sweet. Give me your sweet now.”

I close my eyes and shut out Nico’s voice.

For all the times I keep Soti alive in my mind when I’m alone, I can’t think of him when Nico is inside me. I won’t give Nico that honor. I go through the motions like the good little whore he thinks I am and afterward, he spoons me. His hands touch my stomach and I want to pretend they’re Soti’s hands, but I don’t deserve that honor. Nico props his head on his hand, his chest still against my back.

I feel his eyes on me, but I keep mine closed. The baby stirs and his hands press against the movement.

“Oh, such a wonder. A new life in the world … it’s like everything suddenly makes sense. That baby in there is going to change everything, tesoro. A new beginning…” His voice trails off, as his hands explore my stomach, waiting for more kicks. He keeps talking softly and when both the baby and I are still for a while, he eventually stops. “Sleep well, mia piccola puttana. I hope you dream of me tonight.” He plants another kiss against my hair and gets up, closing the door quietly behind him.

Either he’s a brilliant pretender, or he’s convinced himself we’re a loving family. He still doesn’t trust me enough to fall asleep with me, which says a lot. I’m also not crazy enough to think the danger isn’t just below the surface, but the kinder version of Nico has been much easier to deal with than the beast I’ve witnessed. His tone and touch have been sweet. I guess I should be grateful for that.

The knife isn’t aimed at me anymore, but it’s never far. I haven’t tried to take it, so he’s become more relaxed with it. He places it on the pillow next to us sometimes, or even on the nightstand … usually those times when my rage is a physical presence in our bed. After he uses me, he stays and talks to me and the baby until I fall asleep. He shows his vulnerability during those times, but I know it’s also his way of trying to break me down. In reality, I’m numb and usually tune out every word. It makes my stomach turn to know my baby will know his voice.

He doesn’t trust me, because he still keeps me locked inside.

I had a rough time a couple weeks ago—it would have been my first anniversary with Soti. I had another crying jag. For days. Dr. Bryson came every day for two weeks. They didn’t know what to do with me. Eventually I dried up, and once again, my hormones were blamed. Fortunately for me, a broken heart cannot be diagnosed.

Dr. Bryson has examined me every few weeks since I took the pregnancy test. He thought I was nearly eight weeks then. He does ultrasounds regularly, and they are the highlight of my life. I’m thirty-five weeks and my baby is doing well.

I was right—it’s a girl.

Every day consists of an eerie juxtaposition: maintaining a bubble of calm around me and the baby, and imagining a way out of here. The bubble is bursting more and more. The further along I get, the harder it gets to feel calm. I have too much time in my head, and the little time I’m with anyone it’s with a psycho … I’m drowning here. I’ve learned next to nothing about what lies outside this room.

I do know a few things now, though … it helps to be next to his room. I hear more this way.

My mom has been here several times, but she doesn’t come to see me. It’s for the best. I can’t begin to imagine what I’d do to her, but sometimes I dream of killing her. I hope I wouldn’t, but I don’t view her as a mother anymore. And now that I’m going to be a mother myself, I reject Alexis even more. This was their plan for me all along, to have Nico’s baby. Kell and Nico must have been blackmailing Bentley and got my mother involved to get Maison D’amour. What I don’t know is why Nico wanted me to have his baby when he could get anyone to do that. I guess the reason doesn’t really matter.

When the baby started kicking, it broke through some of my fog. She jostles my senses with each little kick. The more she moves, the more I vow to her that I will get her out of here.

Nico never tells me ahead of time when he’s going out of town on business, but I know he’s gone if he doesn’t come to my room that night. The next day, he visits earlier, stays longer, and usually has some sort of gift for the baby from wherever he’s been. It happens once every week, but not a specific day. I don’t hear his guards when he’s gone. They’re typically quiet but talk back and forth when they’re around. When they all leave the house, occasionally I hear Louise and Cal, but mostly it’s just me and the crickets.

* * *

It’s a good day. Dr. Bryson visited earlier and I managed to swipe the reflex hammer out of his bag when he wasn’t looking. It has a triangular rubber head, but the handle’s end is pointy, so it has possibilities.

I haven’t figured out Dr. Bryson. He’s the only employee around here who has been kind. An elderly man; he looks like a nice grandfather, nothing like the sort of man I’d expect Nico to hire. Since he knows I’m being kept here against my will, he’s only playing the part, but it’s a lie I need to keep believing. I need to believe someone is going to keep my baby safe.

He thinks I’m in “tip-top shape” and tells me to keep exercising every day. What he’s really saying is that I need to stay in shape so I can deliver a baby in this prison.

I have to get out of here.

* * *

Two days later, it’s long past dark and Nico hasn’t shown up. Typically he shows up before sunset. I listen for any signs of him or his guards in the house. All is quiet. My heart skips ahead. This might be it.

It’s going to be impossible for me to be as quick as I want. I’m huge, and regardless of what Dr. Bryson said, I’m not in great shape. I’ve tried to stay as fit as I can, but after being holed up in a room for so long, I’m cumbersome. I’m counting on my determination to make up the difference. It has to. The timing is critical.

I keep the reflex hammer by me and wait. When Louise comes in I’m ready.

“Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose avant le coucher, madame Santelli?”

“Yes. You know what I’d like more than anything, Louise?” I startle her by saying her name. I’ve never said it.

She shakes her head and looks at me suspiciously.

“I’d love to go outside for a bit of fresh air … can you take me outside tonight?”

She shakes her head harder, looking away as she says, “Non.”

“Please! I need to feel the breeze on my face. It’s been so long. Just…”

“Non. Parlez à M. Santelli quand il reviendra. Je ne peux pas.”

So he is gone.

“You could let me go outside for a little while … I know you could.”

She turns away from me and walks toward the door. I move quietly behind her and jab the pointy end of the reflex hammer into her neck.

She screams.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whisper, as I jab, jab, jab. “I hoped you’d help me, but you really are heartless.”

She falls forward and then turns quickly, stretching her hands around my neck and squeezing, while I stab her harder. She knocks the hammer out of my hands and I stumble, but quickly catch myself by grabbing her arm. I knee her hard in the groin and bend down to get the hammer. She tries to rush out the door, but I bang her head into the wall. Hard. She goes down on the fourth strike.

I don’t wait around to see how long she stays down. I get out of the room and take in the house while I hurry through the halls. It’s dark and there are mostly closed doors. I pass one that’s open and barely stop to see what’s in there, too intent on getting out. Carefully moving down the stairs, I find the living room with a wall of windows that faces the lit water. Beyond a closed door to the left is a sound coming from what must be the kitchen. I wonder if it’s Cal or more staff. I don’t stick around long enough to find out. I rush to the door leading out to the deck and open it. I have to do it all the right way so no harm comes to Soti. I should have planned better than this, but I saw my chance and I took it.

The breeze feels divine. I want to close my eyes and soak it in, but I can’t afford to waste a minute. The lights are bright enough to see the stairs leading down to the water. I rush down them, high on adrenaline and pure fear.

I rush down the steps and run along the back of the house. Water, nothing but water. When I reach the end of the house, I turn and make my way along the side of the house. The lamps aren’t lighting the area as much on this side. The front of the house is the same, but I can see lights in the distance. I feel the first flicker of hope and breathe through the rush it gives me.

I should have tried in the daylight, even with the risks. Taking another gulp of the fresh air, I turn and run toward the road. I’m about ten steps onto the street when an arm squeezes around my neck from behind.

“I’ll let Nico decide on how to punish you. But you try what you did with Louise on me, I’ll put a bullet through your head. You understand?”

“Yes,” I choke out.

I feel the gun on my back as Cal twists me around and walks me back toward the house.

I stop walking and he runs into me.

“You kill me and Nico will never let you survive. Let me go and you have a chance.”

“You have a point there.” He jams the gun into my back. “So let’s get you back safe and sound in your room.”

Louise and Cal have said more to me tonight than the whole time I’ve been here.

I slam my head back against Cal’s and it surprises him. He loosens his grip enough for me to turn around and knee him. He grunts and drops his gun then scrambles to reach it, but I beat him to it. He rushes forward and I shoot his leg. Blood spurts out and my stomach heaves. Cal yells and stumbles but keeps moving toward me. I shoot again and turn around in time to see another man coming out of the house. He has a gun but hasn’t seen me yet. I keep the gun trained on him. He sees Cal groaning on the ground and looks up. He lifts his hands and drops his gun.

I see the conflict in his eyes as I keep backing up. Nico will kill him if I’m hurt, and I will make sure he suffers if he doesn’t let me go.

Even though he’s set his gun down, he doesn’t stop advancing.

“Stop right there.” My voice shakes, but my hand is steady.

“Kill the bitch, Andy,” Cal groans, reaching for his pocket.

Andy is fast but not fast enough. He pulls another gun out and shoots Cal’s hand as I shoot him. He goes down and I don’t stop to see the damage. I run.