Evangeline
Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors.
Clack.
Shuffle.
Tap.
I looked up from the half-eaten food, my hungry gaze landing on Gian. I shamelessly drank in the angles of his face, so bronzed in comparison to his white collared shirt.
A week.
Seven Days.
One hundred sixty-eight hours.
That’s how long had passed since I made a deal with Gianluca Trassato.
For the most part, we communicated on an as-needed basis, and we barely spent any time in each other’s presence. All told, I’d only seen Gian four times, this moment included. I was starting to think he didn’t come home most nights, which should have made me happy, except it didn’t. I was lonely. My life had imploded, and I didn’t have anyone to confide in anymore.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were here,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Lucky me,” I mumbled under my breath.
He paused, his spine snapping straight. His dark stare raked up my seated form, finally settling on the wall above my head. “I came home to change.” He tugged his shirtsleeves, and the light glinted off his mother of pearl cufflinks.
“Fabulous.” I dragged my fork through my rice, now less appealing than it was seconds ago. “Well, now you can be on your way.”
Five fluid strides and he bridged the distance between us. “What’s wrong with you?”
I raised my brows, a closed-lipped smirk on my face. “Nothing. I’m perfect. My life has never been better. I must admit I underestimated the appeal of being under house arrest. It certainly has it charms.”
He leaned his hip against the kitchen counter and folded his arms across his chest. The way his well-honed muscles pulled and stretched the fabric of his suit didn’t escape my attention. In fact, I was pretty sure a demon butterfly took flight inside my stomach every time I looked at him. Dammit. I hated him. I hated this whole situation. He was bad for me. Sadly, certain turncoat parts of my body apparently failed to receive the message.
“I haven’t stopped you from doing anything.”
I tossed my fork on the countertop. It slid across the slick surface and tumbled to the floor with a loud clank. “You have someone following me.” I waved my hand cheekily. “Why don’t you strap a tracking bracelet around my ankle and get over it?”
Gian had Tony follow me everywhere like a living, breathing fucking shadow. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he talked to me, but conversations with him were nonexistent. He didn’t resemble the guy I met the night this whole thing started. He rarely made eye contact, evidently preferring to pretend I didn’t exist. I couldn’t blame him. He was only following his boss’ lead.
Gian rubbed his fingers over his lips. Those same lips that were perpetually lifted at the corners like he was the keeper of all my dirty secrets, amusement shining in his amber-colored eyes. “You know, now that you mention it, that’s not such a bad idea.”
I yanked on the soft fabric of my favorite pair of boyfriend jeans and kicked out my leg. “Go ahead. You might as well.”
His fingertips brushed over my ankle, and a jolt of uninvited heat surged through me. I jerked my leg away from him, and he sighed.
“This isn’t a game, Evie. I’m doing this for you.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just go.”
He stared at me for a prolonged beat then closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. “Are you going anywhere tonight?”
“Nope. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have much of a life anymore.”
His jaw fixed in a stubborn line. “You go to physical therapy and train every day. You don’t have any expenses. I feed you. I house you. You don’t have to work. Sounds ideal if you ask me. What more do you need?”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe some human interaction. Maybe some freedom. Both of those would be a good start.”
“I can’t talk about this right now. I have a meeting at the club.”
“Of course you do.”
He raked his hands through his wavy hair, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “I’ll get Tony. He’ll be here all night if you need anything.”
I didn’t answer him. There wasn’t anything to say. Living here was like living with ghosts. Tony rarely talked to me. Gian avoided me. I was sick of it. I was sick of everything. Everyone. I had spent the last year being Kevin’s puppet, feigning interest in his art world, ready to sacrifice my dreams on the altar of marital bliss. Though Gian made the pretense of giving me the means to achieve my goals, I didn’t have anything else. No life, no love, no friends. And for the life of me, I didn’t know which was worse. Self-pity swelled inside my chest, which only made me more frustrated with myself.
He headed to the door without giving me another look, much less another thought.
I flinched when the door slammed. A couple of minutes later, Tony entered the house and sat in a chair inside the front door.
Everything inside of me ached with sorrow, regret, and a hundred things I couldn’t name, and I didn’t have anyone to blame except myself.
I tossed my half-eaten box of Chinese takeout into the trash and tucked my purse under my arm. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Tony stood up, and I waved him away. “You don’t need to come with me.”
Tony’s hand curled around my shoulder. “You can’t go anywhere alone. Gian won’t like it.”
I whirled around and cocked one eyebrow. “I don’t care what Gian does or doesn’t like. I don’t work for him. He doesn’t need to keep tabs on me.”
I was suffocating on my loneliness. A few more days of this and I’d start talking to random people on the street or myself. I’d walked away from Kevin’s cheating ass, and nothing had improved. Now, I’d become Gian’s pseudo fiancée, which in his world was code for prisoner. I couldn’t eat, breathe, or sleep without an escort.
Tony sucked in his lips, making his beak-like nose more prominent. “You told him you were in for the night.”
I shrugged. “So? What’s your point? It’s not like he’s rushing home to hang out with me.”
“He’s busy,” he growled.
“Whatever. If it’s a problem, call Gian and tell him I’m going out again.”
His eyes narrowed. “Even if he agrees, you still can’t go anywhere by yourself.”
“Right. I forgot. I’m a prisoner.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you call your boss while I go to the bathroom and get ready?”
Not waiting for a response, I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
Unlike the place where I lived with Kevin, Gian’s three-story brownstone hadn’t been chopped up into multiple residences. The main floor consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and a powder room. The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor was one large master suite inhabited by Gian, or at least, that was what he told me during my five-minute tour the night I moved into his house. I’d never seen it. He also had a coveted two-car garage on the garden level.
Five monster steps on the striated porcelain tile and I stood in front of the double-hung window. I pried it open, climbed onto the top of the toilet, and stuck one boot-clad foot out the window and then the other. I dangled from the sill for a moment, the pulse in my neck pumping hard, the suede toes of my boots scraping against the weatherworn brick. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and uncurled my fingers. Three feet felt like ten as I whooshed through the air, landing ungracefully on the bluestone patio. A lightning fast jab shot up my weak ankle.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered.
I scrambled to my feet. The wind howled in my ears, and my hair lashed the sides of my face. A red candy bar wrapper tumbled over the tips of my shoes. I scanned the shadows, searching for any witnesses, and listening for footsteps or voices. I didn’t see or hear anyone.
With my back pressed to the building, I crept around the corner, my hair snagging on the roughened brick. The second I reached the tree-lined street, I took off in a full-blown sprint.
One block.
My ankle burned.
Two blocks.
The narrow buildings blurred into a kaleidoscope of brick, surprised faces, and gleaming yellow lights. I collided with elbows, shoulders, purses, and chests, not bothering to make any apologies. I just kept running. Needing space. Needing freedom.
Three blocks.
My feet pounded on a metal sidewalk cellar door, and mini-booms echoed through my ears.
Four blocks.
My lungs burned like I’d swallowed a mouthful of lava. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so out of shape. For as long as I could remember, I spent every waking hour dancing. A year of doing nothing had changed me into a wind-sucking weakling.
Five blocks.
My purse pounded against my back.
Six blocks.
I couldn’t take another step.
I paused, my chest heaving like a faulty life vest with a gaping hole. Screw this. I ripped the phone from the side pocket inside my purse, pulled up my Uber app, and summoned the first available car. In less than a minute, a black town car pulled up to the curb, and I slid inside. My damp shirt mimicked Velcro when I settled into leather back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked, lowering the volume of his radio.
“Um…” In truth, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Carmela, who’d been my only outlet for escape and commiseration for over year, was no longer an option.
My two conversations with her had been strained. While she hadn’t said or done anything blatantly hurtful, she’d acted distant. Without her, I didn’t have anyone. I had no intention of calling my mother. I refused to sit through another hour of my life listening to her chastise me for making bad decisions. She made it clear she thought I should have moved home after I broke off my engagement with Kevin, and in retrospect, I couldn’t disagree.
The driver swiveled in his seat, his left hand tapping an imaginary beat on the steering wheel. “Well? Where do you want to go?”
I rubbed my temples, my mind wildly grasping for any plausible destination. “What’s the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know.” His nearly black eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “I think there’s a Marriott near the Brooklyn Bridge.”
I leaned forward, a small burst of excitement rushing through me. “Perfect. Take me there.”
“You got it.”
Rubbing the frayed hem of my shirt, I stared at the parade of people, all faceless and nameless. A few stared at their phones, some chatted with their companions, and others walked with purpose as though their whole life depended on them making it to their destination.
Meanwhile, I sat in frozen horror while my actions caught up with me. Gian wasn’t Kevin. He wouldn’t accept my defiance with nothing more than a few well-aimed barbs calculated to trash my self-esteem. The dead guy on the floor of his office said enough about his capacity for violence to have me regretting my impulsive actions.
Gian, for some unknown reason, had decided to protect me when he should have put a bullet in my head and dumped me in the nearest body of water. My finger hovered over my phone as I considered calling Carmela for the hundredth time in the past week to spill the truth. I didn’t know if she could protect me from her brother—though, if anyone could, it’d be her. Then again, maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. She couldn’t have grown up with Gian and remained blind to the reality of who he really was. Who her family really was.
The driver cleared his throat. “We’re here.”
“Right.” Nodding absently, I opened the door. The brisk wind whipped around me, transforming my shirt into a billowing sail. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
I jogged into the two-story lobby and stepped onto the escalator, my heart still beating erratically from both my run and the fear building inside of my chest with every additional inch of distance between Gian’s home and me.
Standing in front of the honey-colored wood check-in desk I typed a text to Gian.
I’m fine. I needed some space. I’ll be back in a few days.
My shaky index finger hovered over the send button, debating the pros and cons of contacting Gian. A woman interrupted my musings, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket without sending the text.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a practiced look of interest on her face.
“Yes.” I dug my driver’s license and credit card out of my wallet and slid them across the speckled solid countertop. “I need a room. Only for a night or two. Anything will work. It’s just me.”
“Let me see,” she answered, her hands flying over the keyboard. A minute later, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “We have a standard room or a suite. Do you have a preference?”
I tapped my chipped pale pink fingernails on the counter and blew out a strangled breath. “The standard room will work fine.”
I pulled out my phone and deleted the unsent text. Gian could wait.