On Thursday brown paper bags stuffed with acrylic paints and high quality brushes appear in Giovanni’s bedroom. I unpack the colors with glee, running my fingers over the cream hog bristles.
“I love them. But why did you put them here?” I would have thought he’d put them in the studio.
“There’s more in that room, and an easel set up by the window. I thought you might want to paint the walls in this room.” He pauses. “Only if you want to.”
Tears prick behind my eyes, and I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. He catches me with a soft exhalation of breath. His arms clasp me to him, squeezing tight enough to steal my air.
I could stay here, I think.
At least until Giovanni leaves and Romero appears to stand guard at my door. Then I remember I’m a prisoner. How can I be bribed so easily with rocks and paint? But then again, if I have everything I ever wanted, how can I leave?
I spend the rest of the day painting the plateau where we ate lunch yesterday, remembering how it felt to have the wind on my face and Giovanni at my side.
*
On Friday Giovanni appears at the bedside, freshly showered and wearing a sharp custom suit.
“I’m up,” I say sleepily, eyes barely open.
Giovanni has gotten into the habit of walking me to the studio before he begins working for the day. I don’t love getting up early, but I do love the ritual.
Gio gives me an almost tender look. “Sleep.”
I also prefer to be escorted by Giovanni rather than a guard. It’s a little dampening to the creative spirit to be reminded that I’m not free. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I still don’t know how to break away from him.
Even if I decide to stay, I rationalize, I would go meet my sister. She’ll worry about me if I’m not there. And it would only endanger whoever comes to get me, whether Kip or Blue or someone else from his security company, if they have to break into the mansion itself.
I scrub at my eyes. “No, Romero will be here soon for the morning walk.”
Lupo snores softly at the foot of the bed, his small body curled into a nest. He doesn’t appreciate early mornings any more than I do, but we have to operate around Romero’s availability for walks.
A light clink sounds as Giovanni sets the blue leash on the nightstand.
Awareness comes to me suddenly. I sit up, using the sheet to cover my naked body. “What’s this?”
A muscle works in his jaw. “For you. Romero can still walk the dog if you prefer, but you can too.”
My eyes widen. “Without a guard?”
“When you’re outside, you need an escort. It’s a security issue. Even with the fences and the patrols, I can’t be certain you’ll be safe.” He pauses. “In the house, though, you can go as you please.”
My heart stops beating for a full minute. This is it. He trusts me. He really trusts me, and I’m planning to betray him. I close my eyes. I can’t think about it like that. I only want to see my sister, make sure she’s safe and show her I’m safe too.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
But he’s already turned away, heading for the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m anxious and restless throughout Friday night. Nightmares wake me up twice, once with a nameless, faceless person pinning me to the wall. The second one holds me in a cage, laughing demonically as I pull at the spindle bars.
A drowsy Giovanni wakes me up with soothing noises. “You’re dreaming, bella.”
My breathing comes in harsh pants. “Oh God.”
“Shhh.” He runs his large hand through my hair, brushing the strands between his forefinger and thumb. He cradles my head and runs kisses over my forehead, light and caressing, until I drift slowly back to sleep. I don’t remember any nightmares after that, only vivid flashes of color and emotion that leave me unsettled come morning.
I wake up alone in bed with Lupo anxious to go out. It’s almost noon and I’m still groggy from being up so much during the night. Showering quickly, I take Lupo out to the rose gardens just outside the west exit. A guard nods at me from beside the door, familiar with my new routine.
When I reach the studio with Lupo by my side, Romero is waiting for me.
“Put the dog inside,” he says, brusque and cold. “And come with me.”
A shiver runs over my skin. This is how my father would summon me, one of his men plucking me from whatever I was doing with no preamble, harsh expressions and impersonal commands. “Sure. Okay.”
There’s a dog bed and bowl of water set up in the studio so that Lupo can sit with me while I work. I lead him inside and shut the door on his worried eyes.
“The office,” Romero says.
My heart hitches. This is exactly like before. And then I’d get to the office and the door would close…but no. This is different. Giovanni is different. A little voice inside my head asks, Is he really that different from your father? He’s been gentle enough with me, rough only in the ways I like best, but he’s still a ruthless criminal. He has to be.