Sharon
After the trip on the boat, Sharon was trying to be on her best behavior. She was starting to wonder if she really had started to fall for Vittorio or if she was just starting to fully submit to him. Either way, she knew she just wanted to please him.
However, once she was back in the penthouse, she couldn’t stop her head from spinning. She was so bored. She longed for something to do, somewhere to go. There wasn’t enough electronic stimulation to keep her busy during the long days while she waited for Vittorio to return. Her food was starting to run low because she’d been experimenting with new recipes to keep her taste buds from getting as bored as the rest of her. She’d texted Marcello that she may need groceries soon, as Vittorio had instructed her to, but she hadn’t gotten a reply yet.
Being in the city was getting harder too. She was surrounded on so many sides by windows. At first it had felt open and liberating, but now they just mocked her. She felt trapped and increasingly claustrophobic, with the added anguish of watching others’ lives unfold around her. All she had to do was look down and she could see people and cars bustling about, dozens of stories below.
It was also a stark reminder that her life was moving on without her. Sharon had been missing from her real life for almost two weeks now. Did her roommates miss her? Had her teachers written her off as just another dropout? Doubt and anguish stirred within her.
Her pacing habits were wearing predictable little trails in the carpet. She twirled and fussed with little strand of her hair, muttering to herself as she wandered around.
Suddenly, her phone pinged. Sharon hurried over to where it rested on the couch in the main TV room. It was a text, from Vittorio.
“How’s your day?” he’d typed.
Huh? Sharon thought, surprised. This was the first time Vittorio had reached out just to check on her during the day. The raging cyclone of emotion within her calmed significantly and she smiled. It was such a sweet gesture. She wondered if maybe he was starting to feel more towards her as well.
“Good!” she lied. “How’s yours?”
There was a little whoosh as her message zipped off into cyberspace.
She stared obsessively at the screen for about five minutes before she gave a defeated little sigh. “Oh well,” she said aloud. “He’s probably busy.”
Sharon paced through the kitchen but decided she wasn’t really hungry. She also didn’t know how much longer it was going to be before she got more food, so she decided that she probably shouldn’t be wasting it out of boredom.
She began pulling open drawers and cupboards in the kitchen. She wasn’t expecting to find anything special; she was just desperate for something to do. One of the topmost drawers reminded her of her parents’ junk drawer at home. Sharon dug through various pens, paper clips, a ball of rubber bands and a few keys to unknown locks. Bored, she sighed. She pulled out a block of post it notes and a pencil and sat at the counter to doodle.
What started as a row of teeny swirls became hearts. Before she knew it, she’d covered an entire little yellow paper square in hearts, x’s and o’s and Vittorio’s name. Sharon giggled, feeling almost like she was back in high school again.
He’ll probably never love you. The unwelcome thought popped into her mind without warning. If she didn’t stay diligent in reminding herself, though, Sharon worried she’d end up falling for a man who’d told her right to her face just two days before that he only wanted her for sex.
She thought about the boat again, specifically Lara’s frame. Sharon wondered if it had been a gift, possibly a handmade creation for the bubbly, excited spouses-to-be. She tried to picture Vittorio as a love-besotted fiancé, but she couldn’t really. How had he proposed? she wondered. The brief flash she had seen of his broken heart had really endeared Vittorio to Sharon. He wasn’t just his tough exterior. She’d always thought there was more to him and now she had the proof.
Before she knew it, Sharon was onto a new sticky note. She wrote Lara’s name in an elaborate cursive script, tracing over the exaggerated loopy ‘L’.
I wonder what she looked like, Sharon pondered. Was she more of a sweet or sultry beauty? Blonde? Brunette? She was dying to know but knew she could never ask Vittorio. Her keen curiosity about Lara swept her off so deep in thought that she had subconsciously scribbled “6-21-2015” under her name.
Three numbers, she thought. That could be the combination to a safe.
The muscles between her shoulder blades tensed. She knew Vittorio would be furious if he found out that she’d been poking around his safe again. Sharon dropped her pencil and walked away from the stickies. She tried to pace off her growing urge to check the safe, but to no avail.
I’m going to be here alone every day, Sharon realized. She had no idea how long Vittorio planned to keep her at the penthouse. They had never talked about it again. How long was she going to have to spend cooped up with this tempting secret? I’m probably going to end up checking it anyway. I may as well do it now, she justified to herself.
Sharon retrieved the sticky with the date and took it to the white bedroom. Her pulse quickened as she stared at the wall panel that hid the safe. Her curiosity won out over her guilt and she found and pressed the button under the bed. The little door clicked and Sharon opened it gently. She came face to face with the safe.
She touched the dial, then drew her hand back. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to betray Vittorio’s trust again. After a deep breath, she decided that she was. It didn’t matter how bad she felt, she needed to know more about this man. Maybe, if he didn’t want her snooping, he should give her more to do.
I could still be going to school during the day, at least, Sharon resolved. She was happiest when she was around Vittorio. Didn’t he know that she would come home willingly if he would just let her?
Equal parts spite and curiosity had her spinning the dial to the number six. Then the number twenty-one. Sharon figured that, if it was a three digit combination, Vittorio would have used the shorthand of the year to set the combination. She spun it back to fifteen and tried the latch.
It was still firmly locked in place.
Disappointed, Sharon reconsidered. Had she been wrong when she assumed the date would the code? Was it maybe twenty instead of fifteen? She spun the lock again; right to six, left to twenty-one, then right again to twenty.
Still locked.
Dammit, Sharon swore to herself. She wondered if maybe she was spinning the dial the wrong way, but nothing she tried with either combination worked. She grew more and more frustrated with each attempt.
She realized maybe the safe code could be four digits instead of three. Worth a shot, she figured. It wasn’t like she had any other ideas.
She spun the lock from six, to twenty-one, back to twenty, then fifteen.
The latch finally opened.