Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
I look around the cabin. It's small but luxurious, with a queen-sized bed made up with crisp, white linens and a soft-looking duvet. Kicking off my filthy heels, I thank my lucky stars that I picked the dress with the flowy skirt instead of the mermaid, and fall, exhausted, onto the mattress. I don't even bother getting under the covers, just curl into a ball on top of the duvet, the folder of evidence forgotten somewhere on the floor of the main cabin.
I'm so tired. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I'm afraid, obviously, but also numb. Numb at the idea that my father was basically selling me, numb knowing that his greatest enemy is taking me God-knows-where, and numb at the fact that I'm basically helpless.
Most unwelcome of all is how attracted, how drawn, I am to Adrian. I should hate him, despise him, but instead, a ridiculous part of me wants to know more.
With the image of his deep brown eyes on my mind, I fall into a dreamless slumber.
Waking up is disorienting, the jet engines still humming, daylight pushing through the curtains of the small window. I sit up on my knees and pull the fabric aside, gaping when I see where the jet is preparing to land. The view is breathtaking. A glittering expanse of turquoise water, dotted with islands and fringed with a coastline of dramatic cliffs that plunge into the sea. Whitewashed villas with terracotta roofs cling to the cliff-sides, their colorful gardens spilling over the edges like vibrant waterfalls.
We're landing somewhere impossibly beautiful, and for a heart-stopping moment, I forget that I'm a prisoner. I just stare out the window, mesmerized by the view. But then the reality of my situation crashes back down on me. This isn't a vacation. This is my new prison. A very, very beautiful prison.
The plane touches down with a soft bump, rolling smoothly along the tarmac before coming to a complete stop. I jump when the bedroom door opens without a knock. Adrian is standing there, also in the same clothes from last night, suit jacket gone and sleeves rolled up.
"Rise and shine, princess," he grins mockingly, "We're home."
"Care to tell me where 'home' is now?" I have my suspicions, but I want to hear it from him first. And I want to see if he'll give me a straight answer.
He gives me a sardonic smile. "The Amalfi Coast. Positano, to be exact." He gestures for me to follow him. "Come on. The car is waiting. Oh, and you’ll need this.” He pulls an American passport from his pocket. I stare at it then up at those eyes, that sardonic smile. What am I doing? I take the passport and pinch myself hard. Yep, it still hurts, so this is actually happening.
I have no choice but to follow him out of the jet and down the stairs. The warm, humid air hits me like a physical blow, thick with the scent of salt. A different black sedan is waiting for us, the driver ready and waiting to open the doors for us. I'm still in a daze, pulling on my mud-crusted shoes before my feet hit the tarmac, and squinting in the bright sun. I've only been awake for minutes, and I'm already being ushered into another car in a distant country.
My stomach is growling, and I'm desperate to brush my teeth and shower. Adrian seems in much better spirits than he did the night before, chatting with the driver in Italian and handing me a chilled bottle of sparkling water as we drive along the coast, headed God knows where. But when I try to ask where we're going again, he just ignores me, his eyes on the stunning scenery outside.
As we drive, the coastal road winds higher and higher, clinging to the side of the cliffs. The views are spectacular, but my stomach is in knots. I'm being taken to my prison, and no amount of beautiful scenery can change that. The car turns off the main road and onto a private, gated drive. The wrought iron gates only swing open when Adrian enters a keycode, and we continue down the driveway lined with what I think are olive trees.
Finally, we reach an enormous villa with multiple floors, made from whitewashed stone. It has a clay-colored roof, flowers spilling out of window planters, a prominent terrace, and an infinity pool that overlooks the ocean.
Adrian gets out of the car and comes around to open my door for me. "Welcome to Villa Marchetti," he says, a thread of what I can only identify as triumph in his voice, "This, princess, is home.”
3
ADRIAN
Despite having slept most of the night on the flight over, Elena still looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over, so the first thing I do after giving her a house tour is show her the guest bedroom that she can call her own. If I were a less understanding man, I'd tell her she'd just be sharing my room, but Elena needs to rest and come to terms with her fate before I start to seduce her.