“No, you can’t.”
“Why do you doubt me?”
“You’re a little girl.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Exactly.” His gaze challenges me, but I decide not to take the bait. It’s better to stay on the safe side. “See you soon.”
The door closes and locks behind him, and I sit on my bed with a loud huff. My gaze catches my reflection in the full-length gilded mirror on the opposite wall. I look angelic in a white silk dress, with my light blonde hair falling down my back in luxurious waves. A ribbon ties my locks together, but tendrils are escaping now, trying to get free.
I glance to my balcony. I’m only on the first floor, and there’s a lattice of roses I could climb down onto if I wanted to get to the gardens. But it’s risky. If Antonio - or worse yet, Xavier - catches me in the act, I’ll be punished. Still, the temptation to leave is too strong. I need a taste of freedom.
I wait at least half an hour. The minutes tick by slowly, even though I try to keep myself busy by painting my toes a pearly pink color. Finally, I go to the balcony and open it as quietly as I can. A glance over my shoulder reveals the door is still closed. My heart threatens to beat straight out of my chest as I swing myself over the white iron railing. The pain when my palms dig into the rose plant’s thorns makes me wince, but I don’t let out a sound. I keep climbing until my bare feet hit the damp grass under the house.
With a sly smile, I run in the direction of the rose gardens, hoping nobody has caught my escape.
The air is thick with the luxurious, heady aroma of fresh, blooming roses. Following a less primped dirt path, I find the source of the opulent smell. Beneath a canopy of light pink roses, there’s a simple wooden bench. I rush to it, lounging on the wood as I inhale the sweet scent of freedom.
However momentary it is, it feels good to get away for a while. Being in that house has made me stir-crazy, and that’s nothing compared to my guardian’s electric presence. Xavier’s closeness makes my head spin. And yet I can’t stop hearing his words. How he swore he wouldn’t touch me until I turned eighteen.
I still don’t know whether I’m relieved or upset by it. A part of me is eager to explore, to shed the innocent being I was when I lived with my parents. But my other side knows how dangerous Xavier is. I can understand why my parents avoided him - there’s danger on his trail, and now on mine too.
Still, Xavier will protect me from harm’s way. And something tells me I’m safer with him than I would be with my parents. Besides, if it’s really me they’re after, this way Mathilda, my little sister, will be safer too.
I lie on my back on the wood bench, admiring the powder pink canopy of roses above me. It feels like a fairytale, complete with the tower I’m locked into every night. But I’m not like any other princess. I’m not a damsel in despair. No matter what Xavier or Antonio think, I know I can take care of myself.
Time passes fast, and soon I feel the sun’s last warming rays lazily roaming over my warm skin. I stretch, enjoying what are probably the last few moments of freedom I have. Soon, I’ll have to return to my bedroom for dinner, and pretend I was there the whole time.
I must fall asleep at some point, because when I next open my eyes, the sky has turned a dark inky blue, peppered with silvery stars.
But that’s the second thing I notice when my eyes finally open again. The first is the strong, tattooed hand choking the life out of me.
I look up into Xavier’s eyes. My gaze conveys the betrayal I feel from his rough touch, and he lets go a little. But I’ve never seen him this angry, and I already know I’m in for a world of trouble.
“Everybody’s looking for you,” Xavier snarls like me. His dark eyes look as black as the night, glinting like cold steel. “I almost killed Antonio.”
“Don’t,” I rasp, clawing at his fingers to get his hands off me. “I snuck out. It’s not his fault.”
“Of course it’s his fucking fault,” Xavier growls. “I entrust him with your protection and he loses you on the first fucking day. What the fuck were you thinking, Tallulah?”
“I just wanted to see where the scent of roses was coming from,” I mutter sheepishly when his hand finally leaves my throat. My fingers tremble as I touch the tips to the sore spots he left behind. “Why are you hurting me?”