Page 27 of Virtuous Lies
I’ve kept myself busy by snooping. I’ve explored every nook and cranny.Twice. I’ve sniffed the sheets, expecting a musty smell to meet me. But they’ve been freshly washed and are crisp to the touch. The fridge is stocked, and the cupboards are full. Nothing sits in the wardrobe but spare blankets and pillows.
I unpack my bag. I look at Vincent’s but think better of it, leaving it untouched where he left it at the foot of the bed.
I make myself a cup of coffee and sit on the porch, staring out at the lake surrounding us. It would be quite peaceful had I not been taken here against my will. If my new husband had brought me here for a romantic getaway and not to hide out until whatever crime he’s committed has been covered up.
I haven’t spoken to Caterina since my wedding. I haven’t had a chance to reassure her that I’m safe, and I know she’ll be worried. I’d hope that our father would alleviate her fears, but I know better than to trust Papa. He’d tell her to stop worrying, that I wasn’t their concern. That I was now Vincent’s.
I wander back into the cabin, moving toward the office. I tap on the door.
“Yes.”
I turn the handle slowly, popping my head through the crack in the door.
“Was just checking in.”
He places a phone down. A dinosaur of a gadget that was probably the sought-after phone when I was born.
“Do you need something?”
He hasn’t slept in almost two days, and it shows. His eyes are bloodshot, his clothes crinkled, and his voice slurs over certain words in exhaustion.
“Doyou? Food? Sleep maybe?”
A small grin plays on his lips. “I have too much to do. But I should be finished by dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll make us something.”
I wait.
He stares at me.
“Have you spoken to my father?” I gesture to the phone.
“Why?”
I step into the office uninvited. “Does Cat know I’m okay?”
He doesn’t seem perturbed by my presence, so I move farther into the room. “I didn’t ask your father. I’ve had more important things to sort out.”
Yeah, like keeping yourself out of jail.
Quiet descends between us.
“Bianca,” he warns, his chest deflating on a prolonged sigh.
“Please, Vincent. It’s safe. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be using it. Thirty seconds. I just want to assure her that I’m safe.” I’m aware that I’m begging and pleading with my husband for access to my own family.
His head tips back.
“I’ll do anything.”
I’m now standing directly in front of his desk, palms pressed against the wood.
He shakes his head. “Don’t cheapen yourself by offering yourself as payment.”
“I—" I stutter.
“You have thirty seconds,” he warns. “Not a millisecond more, Bianca. Do not test me.”