Hey Trace, it’s Elena. Sorry I wasn’t there to open this morning. My abuela is very sick, and I bought a ticket to Los Angeles as soon as I got the news. She’ll need care when she’s released from the hospital, so I could be gone a few weeks. Hold down the fort for me until I get back. I’ll give you a call once I get a new phone … had too many cocktails and dropped mine in the toilet. Oops!
Diego snatches the phone from me before I can press ‘send,’ and gives my message a quick read. Before he can put his phone away, a new message comes through and I hold my breath, thinking it must be a reply from Tracy. My heart sinks when Diego opens the text to reveal a picture that’s a clear invitation from some faceless woman. The selfie was taken at a flattering angle, showing a woman with a full, lush figure wearing cherry red lingerie. Only her lips and chin are showing, but a tendril of black hair hanging to her shoulder makes me think of the woman on his lockscreen.
“Hot date?” I mutter.
Diego darkens the screen, then slips it back into his pocket. Without a word, he turns on his heel to leave.
“You can’t keep me here,” I call after him.
He swivels to face me. “I thought we had already established that I can.”
“No,” I reply with a frustrated sigh. “I mean you can’t keep me here without the people who care about me getting suspicious. How long do you think it would take for police to figure out that my father owed you a lot of money? That connection will lead them right to your door.”
Diego snorts and rolls his eyes. “You still don’t get it. Listen to me very carefully, Elena. The threat of police doesn’t scare me. I have half the force in my pocket. No one is coming to save you. Not daddy, not your friends, not the police. The only thing that will end this is the money your father owes me. If I were you, I’d spend less time telling me what I can and can’t do, and more time praying Santiago manages to scrape up my cash sometime in the next month.”
With that, he storms from the room, slamming and locking the door. I let out an enraged scream like a banshee, picking up one of the paperbacks I was given and hurling it against the closed door. Diego’s laugh comes at me from the other side, low and rasping. It’s really more of a growl, but I can hear the amusement in it.
“Fuck off, you bastard!” I yell at the door, not caring how futile it is. I’d rather scream than cry.
Silence is my response, and I can’t even hear Diego’s footsteps, which means he’s probably long gone. I go to pick up the novel I threw and stare down at its cover. The title is The Villain, and the cover features a redhead woman wearing a flowing, eighteenth-century ball gown in the arms of a bulky, hot, shirtless man with flowing dark hair.
“You lucky bitch,” I grumble at the swooning cover model.
Turning the book over, I scan the blurb and realize the couple gets together when the hero keeps the heroine prisoner in his Gothic Scottish castle. Apparently, this leads to true and lasting love.
With a snort, I plop on the bed and open it to the first page, deciding it can’t hurt to indulge in a little escapism. At least things will turn out well for the redhead. I’m not so certain what my fate will be, but I know it won’t be anything like what I’ll read between the pages of this novel.
This is no romantic love story. There is no happily ever after.
7
Elena
I bide my time for three days. Trying to lose myself in books and movies while waiting for my meals is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Everything inside me screams for freedom, and my thoughts go in circles for a little while before landing on the same outcome: if I don’t run, I’m going to die.
My yoga mat arrives on the second day, but morning and evening practice only distract me for so long. I’m going out of my mind by day four—pacing and biting my fingernails down to ragged stumps. I have to get out of here, and it can’t wait.
Desperation makes my heart pound so hard I can hear the