Page 53

Olivia

M y neck aches. It’s my first thought when I open my eyes… I’m in the same room as before, but the curtains are open, letting in the bright morning light. Something clatters to my right, and tiredly, I swing my head to see a maid setting a basket of clothes on the desk.

I don’t recognize her, but they have to work for Sofia. Or whoever else is keeping me here.

“Someone will be here shortly,” she mutters.

Before I can react, or remember the letter opener stuffed into the lining of my skirt, the door slams shut. The lock clicks behind it.

I adjust my legs, feeling the letter opener still intact against my thigh. I feel the metal lighter too. I grabbed whatever I could hide.

Despite my throbbing skull, I can tell my wounds have been cleaned, and my hair is braided back. Someone must have done it while I slept. I hardly have a moment to consider it before the door opens again, admitting Sofia.

She’s wearing a white dress that cuts off mid-calf. Paired with her silver hoops and a set of bangles ringing at her wrists, she looks like it’s any other day. Her heels click as she crosses the room. She pauses behind me, propping herself against the desk.

“If I let you out, are you going to run?”

Considering how tired I feel, I doubt I’d be able to run if I tried.

Maybe that’s the point. They want me weak. Hungry. Desperate.

I say nothing, letting my eyes drift to the sound of footsteps approaching. The look on her face- almost a plea- confuses me, but it disappears when two guards step inside.

They cut the ropes binding my wrists. As soon as they’re loose, I rub at the raw burns before I’m shoved forward. I stumble after Sofia who twists on a stiletto heel away.

I try to memorize the path we take to the gleaming private elevator. Sofia inserts a key card, and the doors buzz. We descend to the third floor, and the doors openinto a grand ballroom.

I recognize it from one of the times I’ve visited. The only difference is that now it’s empty. No sign of any guests. We pass through the balcony doors to an arch of Plumeria blooms and green elephant-ear vines. Beneath it, there’s a stone table clad with silver platters piled with food.

Blue-painted china marks five places at the table. Sofia takes a chair, and it’s then that I see the man seated at the head of the table. My blood turns to ice.

The man from the hospital.

His steely grey eyes watch me with twisted concentration. I don’t realize I’ve stopped until the guards shove me into a seat. Strapping one of my wrists to the chair, they draw the rope tight before retreating to the doors.

Sofia’s face reveals nothing as the man clears his throat, scratching the stubble lining his chin. “Do you know why you’re here, Olivia?”

My father.

It’s my only conclusion. Taking one look at the men around me, I’d say it’s an apt one.

“Enlighten me.”

“My name is Donatello Rema. We’ve been watching you for some time now.” The confirmation rattles me. “Sorry to hear about your cat,” he drawls with a sick smile. “The fire too. Although it looks like you didn’t leave unscathed.”

“You are disgusting,” I spit, seething with resentment.

He merely laughs. “I’m sure you’re aware your father works with Oskar Benenati.”

At the mention of Skar, I feel my stomach drop again. Just the implication that this might not be about my Dad… It has my fingers flexing. My gaze shifts to Sofia, and it finally clicks. This is about the Benenatis.

Sofia, Aleks- it was all a ploy to get closer. And me?

Secrets kill. Secrets burn.

“More than a year of planning, but you just couldn’t keep your nose where it belongs. Could you?”

Even unintentionally, I stumbled onto something I shouldn’t have.

“What does my father have to do with this?“

“It was a miracle Harvey was able to pull it off. Getting close to Skar… We’ve tried and failed. I thought- surely- Skar would see right through him. I mean- the drugs alone…” Donatello laughs, and my resentment churns into hate. “Your father… There’s not a chance in hell he could have orchestrated this by himself. But Aleks proved to be gullible enough.”

“What do you want?” I ask, not wanting to hear any more.

His lips purse in distaste. “We’re being patient.”

It’s an effort not to reveal how my heart leaps. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs, the movement bored. “I should probably mention the fact that we have Aleksander as well.” Donatello snaps, and when the doors open and two guards carry in a limping Aleks, I shoot forward, but my restraints tugs me back.

He winces as they drag him to the table across from me, tying him down. I spy a distinct blue bruise across his face as his head sags. His brown eyes land on me tiredly.

Despite his obvious pain, he still smiles. “Olivia. I was really hoping to see you under different circumstances.”

“Are you okay?” I whisper, and from the way he winces, I know he’s more hurt than he’s letting on.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Shut it,” Donatello snaps, and my eyes flicker to him.

“What do you think you’re going to accomplish?” I hiss, and he smiles, rubbing his chin.

The guards pull the door open again, and my gaze hardens as Chase enters. It’s not much of a surprise, but it still stings. “Good morning.”

His face is full of contempt as he unbuttons his blazer, leaning down to kiss Sofia’s cheek. She doesn’t react, merely staring ahead as Chase sits beside her, nosdding towards Rema.

“Father.”

They’re siblings.

“You and your sister were supposed to keep a tighter rein on all of this.”

“Well, it’s done now, isn’t it?” Sofia snaps.

The auction, Corino’s, Sofia and Aleks’ sham of an engagement.

“How many of you are there?” I wonder aloud.

“Have you eaten yet?” Chase asks, and I want to spit at him for even asking, but when he serves Sofia and himself a plate, I bite my tongue.

The scent of buttery croissants and sausages fills my nose, and my stomach howls. Rema lifts his chin, asking, “Can you serve yourself? Or should I?”

“I’m not hungry,” I deny. I remain silent as Remaheaps a couple servings on my plate. Then Aleks’. I stare, steam filling the air.

“Eat. That's all you’ll get.”

Everyone serves themselves, quietly eating until Rema glances at Chase. “Have we heard anything from him?”

It could be Skar or Crew. Or my father- and anyone else involved, but I keep my mouth shut. One glance at my food, and I can’t help but shovel a few mouthfuls into my mouth. I don’t care about the taste enough to slow down. I continue, bite after bite.

Chase says, “We should have waited-“

“We should have done a lot of things,” Rema bites, glaring at both of his children. “You told me you had her under control.”

“It was under control. It appears that Ms. Hughes is more resourceful than we gave her credit for.”

“I never should have trusted you two with this.”

Sofia sighs. “It would have worked.”

“Maybe if you weren’t keen on leaving gifts, it would have,” Chase bites back before looking at me. Then it dawns on me that they left a lot more than just letters.

“Enough,” Donatello snaps.

Sofia doesn’t meet my eye.

She left the flowers.

My gaze slides to Aleks, who refuses to look up.

“We need to be prepared for this weekend,” Donatello continues.

“The plan hasn’t changed,” Chase explains around a mouthful of food.

“What exactly is the plan?” I ask, nodding toward Sofia. “You pretended to love Aleks, right? And now that that’s failed, what?”

Her father cuts me a vicious look. “When we’re done, take her to the wine cellar. I don’t want any surprises this weekend.”

The dismissal is clear. I try my best not to watch Sofia as I finish chewing. When breakfast is done, the guards untie me.

Sofia abruptly pushes her chair back. “I’ve got it.” Upon yanking me toward the door with the guards in tow, she twists toward her father. “You worry about this weekend. I’ll take care of her.”

Rema waves us off. “Separate them and keep him hidden.”

“Aleks-” I take one last look at him smiling softly before I’m led away.

Sofia directs me to the elevator doors. Instead of going up though, she swipes her card and takes us to the basement.

It’s much quieter here, despite still being as lavish and polished as the rest of the place. A long narrow hallway leads to a wall of glass. She pushes open a door which leads to a cellar full of oak crates of wine stretching as far as the eye can see. Just inside, there’s a chair, and she shoves me into it. She straps my arms down tightly.

“Why send the flowers?” I ask quietly enough thatthe guards can’t hear. “Why toy with me?”

Something flashes in her eyes, and when she draws the rope tight enough to pinch, I know I’ve found a sore spot.

“Maybe I was just bored,” she answers, standing. “Maybe toying with you was my only form of entertainment.”

Then the door closes. Moments later as she walks toward the elevators again, the lights shut off. And I’m alone again.