Marcella shrugs. “It’s not so bad. Diego’s a good brother.” At my snort of disbelief, she laughs. “Seriously. I know he’s been a dick to you, but he’s taken care of me since I was born. One thing I can say about these men … they provide well and fiercely protect their children and women.”
“Oh sure,” I grumble. “It’s only other people’s women who are in danger around them.”
She wrinkles her brow and gives me an apologetic look. “It’s not personal.”
“It is for me!” I shout, springing to my feet. “I’m the one who’s going to eat a bullet if you brother doesn’t get his money.”
“Elena … I wish there was something I could do.”
“You can! Help me get out of here. Diego never has to know it was you. I’ll make sure he gets his money eventually, I swear.”
Marcella gives me a sad look and slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Even if I could do that, you wouldn’t be able to hide for long before they found you. Diego has connections everywhere.”
Before I can reply, someone knocks on the door. It turns out to be the maid, Antonella. She’s carrying a huge box, which she drops in the middle of the room.
“Your clothes came in,” she says, sounding as if she’s presenting me with a Christmas gift.
She and Marcella start digging through the package, throwing items of clothing across the bed. I ignore them and head to the champagne for another refill. I’m starting to feel a little buzz, and it’s helping take the edge off. I’ve been here for a week now, which brings me closer to the moment of reckoning. If my father has been in touch with Diego, I haven’t been told about it. The wondering and waiting are already starting to drive me insane.
“Oooh, this is cute!” Antonella exclaims, lifting a white dress from the box.
It’s meant to be form-fitting and looks like its perfect for a cocktail party. A pair of matching heels comes out next.
“Where the hell am I going to wear that?” I snap. “To my execution?”
Antonella spreads the dress out on the bed and lays the shoes beside it. They have gold trim and shiny red soles. “You never know. Besides, Señor Pérez let me charge all this to his credit card. Seemed like a waste not to take advantage of it.”
I give Antonella an approving nod. “Agreed. Please tell me there’s a diamond tiara in there, too.”
“Nope,” Marcella replies. “But this little number is sexy as hell.”
She’s holding up a set of black silk pajamas—a camisole and shorts trimmed in delicate lace. Antonella is ooh-ing an aah-ing over jeans, tops, and activewear, while Marcella pulls a few more sets of similar pajamas that could double for sleep or seduction.
It all seems a little ridiculous considering I’m a fucking prisoner here. But then, I figure Antonella probably ordered all these things knowing we’re almost the same size and expecting it all to be given to her once I’m gone. I can’t say I wouldn’t take the same opportunity were I in her shoes.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, as Marcella pulls out handfuls of underwear and a couple of bras.
I snatch a pair of white cotton panties and a matching bra from her and rush into the bathroom. Wearing undergarments again shouldn’t seem like a small blessing, but just now it’s all I have. Being able to put on clothes that don’t belong to someone else makes me feel a little more in control. I select a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt, noticing that even these items are made by high-end designers. Knowing Diego’s credit card bill has shot up as a result of my presence here offers a little vindication.
The girls help me store the clothes in the closet. Then, Antonella takes the box and leaves after mentioning that lunch will be served in about an hour.
Marcella stands in the middle of the room, glancing around as if looking for an excuse to stay. “Look, I’ll try to reason with Diego, but I can’t make any promises. He doesn’t like me getting involved in his business. I might have been born into this, but I’m not supposed to take any real part in it.”
“What about your parents?” I ask. I might have been pissed that she won’t help escape, but she’s the first friendly face I’ve seen since being brought here. “What happened to them?”
“They’re both dead,” she replies without elaborating. “My father was killed when I