To well and truly belong to Orlando.
He paces and paces, and I know that he’s mulling everything over in his mind.
My heart aches for him. I came here to save my friend. I lied about being pregnant to save my life. And now…I want to save him, only I don’t know how.
He gets another phone call, and when he put it up to his ear, he speaks in Italian. I don’t know many words, but the tone of his voice is pleased. He hangs up the call.
I hear him rummaging around, and then scratching a note on a piece of paper. He slips it on the table beside me, then bends and kisses my head, before he heads for the door.
It’s hard to pretend I’m asleep when I’m crying.
The door opens and closes behind him. I’m alone.
With trembling hands, I open the drawer.
Tomorrow, he’ll remember I have this phone. He punished me for it tonight, and now I know what I have to do. I may be allowed my phone again, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he punished me by taking it away.
For half a second, I fear it’s gone, that they took it. But it still lies next to the black box he keeps in there for his kink games. I grab for it quickly, shaking in case he returns.
Would he punish a pregnant wife? I still feel the sting from the falls of the flogger, but the memory’s already become an erotic fantasy more than a punishment. What will he do when he finds out the real truth? All of it? There’s no way I’ll get away with this.
My phone buzzes. I almost drop it.
Bestie.
I answer the phone, my voice hoarse. “Hello?” I whisper.
On the other end of the phone, I only hear sobs.
“Hello? Hello? Elise?”
I hope and pray whoever taps this phone is confused by the name and doesn’t suspect the truth. I sit up straighter in bed. “Are you okay?”
“They killed him. Oh, God, they killed him.” She’s in hysterics. Ice spears my chest, and I begin to shake.
“Who did?” I whisper. “My God. Who did?”
“My father found out the truth,” she chokes. “Piero’s friend ratted him out. He found us, oh God, he found us.”
No.
“Where are you?” I ask. Tears of frustration and fear stream down my face, and the hand on my phone shakes so hard I grab it with my other hand to steady the shaking.
“I escaped,” she whispers. “I can’t tell you where I am. They’re tapping your phone, I know they are. I won’t tell you where I am, but I’m safe now. I escaped.” She sobs. “But he didn’t. They shot him. He rescued me, and he gave his life for me. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” She sobs harder, gasping into the phone. “And they shot him.”
I can’t tell her what happened to me, I can’t tell her what’s happening now. She’s got her own shit to deal with. I’m on my feet, shaking from the trauma of hearing this.
They’ll go after her next.
And me. They’ll come after me.
“Find a way to me,” I tell her. “Please, honey. And we’ll make this better.” I fear for her life. Somehow, some way, I’ll find a way to help her. We’ll have to.
Footsteps sound in the hallway outside our door. “I can’t talk,” I whisper. “Stay in touch, please.”
“Go,” she says. “Stay safe. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I drop the phone in the drawer just as the door to the room opens. I pretend I’m coughing, then bury my face in the pillow with the coughing fit as I try to stem my tears.
“Baby?”
The sound of his voice makes me all choked up. I have to face him. I have to face this all bravely and do what I must.
I have to find Elise, I have to save her, too.
How?
I roll over and face the door. Orlando’s back with the doctor.
“Oh, good, you’re up, Elise.” I yawn widely, feeling like an absolute jerk. “I was gonna wait until tomorrow for you to see him, but he’s heading to Tuscany tomorrow and was in the library with the family.” He walks over to me and reaches a hand to my forehead. “You okay?”
“Ugh, I feel so sick,” I whisper. A tear rolls down my cheek, and my heart aches so badly I feel as if it’s going to splinter in two. “I don’t feel good at all.”
Orlando sits on the bed beside me and holds me. I sniffle into his chest, but it feels like a stolen moment. I’m not who he thinks I am. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve his comfort or protection or any of it.
“Can you help her?” The plaintive plea in his voice breaks my aching heart. He cares about me, really, truly cares about me, in a way that no one ever has before. Ever. “Elise, this is Dr. Cho. Dr. Cho, my wife Elise.” For some reason, hearing him call me that name feels worse than it ever has before. I want him to call me by my real name. I want to be myself with him, the real me. But I want it all, and I know I can’t have that.