Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
My last thread of patience snaps. “Since when?”
“Since the night of the ball, at least. Probably before that. But that’s when Abella overheard her.”
“Christ.” I scrub a hand over my face.
“I take it that’s not true then?”
I level her with every ounce of my annoyance. “No, Mariella. I don’t have a list of suitable broodmares, for the record.”
She shrugs. “Guess your plan to make Abella jealous kind of backfired, didn’t it?”
“You have two seconds to get out of my office before I call Ares Stavros and sign a marriage contract with your name on it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But if you find her—”
“You mean when I find her.”
“When you find her,” she corrects herself. “I hope you tell her what she means to you.”
“Anything new to report?” I hold the phone to my ear as I take a walk around the property, nearing the edge of the forest.
“Nothing today,” Nicky answers. “We’ve got eyes on a few vehicles, and we’re tracking their movements. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”
I release a sigh. It’s the same report as every other day.
Needing an outlet for my restless ire, I redirect my energy.
“And Genevieve?”
“The word is out,” he assures me. “She’s been blacklisted from every Society event and social function. Her friends have dropped her. And per your orders, the Tribunal has declared her unfit for marriage. I have it on good authority her father’s looking to send her abroad to spare himself the shame.”
“Good,” I remark. “I hope he sends her to Antarctica. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
Nicky snorts.
I glance up and freeze.
The black stag stands less than twenty feet away, his eyes locked on me as if he’s been waiting.
“You still there, boss?” Nicky asks.
“I have to go.” I disconnect the call as I stare at the beast in front of me.
For a suspended moment, neither of us moves, then he turns and walks back into the trees.
I don’t know why I follow him. It’s an unusual circumstance to see something I never thought existed on this island in the first place, but to see it three times feels like more than a coincidence.
He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry as he walks the path we used to take as kids. This shortcut through the forest leads to one of the bluffs overlooking the beach. That’s where I first decided Abella would be mine. But it isn’t the only memory I have of her on this part of the island. And when the stag stops near the tree we called Goliath, another one comes flooding back.
The initials I carved into a rock are still there, planted at the base of the tree. A small garden of wildflowers borders the trunk, and it appears that someone has maintained it over the years. When I look inside the tree hollow, I find the old tin canister Abella and I used to use as a mailbox. During a time when we were surrounded by no less than ten people at any given moment, this was a way for us to have private conversations.
Curious, I pull the tin out of the hollow and brush the dirt off. When I open it, there’s a stack of letters inside. They’re all addressed to me at the Tribunal prison, and all of them are stamped with a return to sender emblem.
I never got them.
An odd stillness washes over me as I glance up at the stag. I’ve never given much credence to legends, but as I gaze into his eyes, I start to think maybe my nonno wasn’t so crazy after all.
As if his work here is done, the black stag turns and leaves.
I sit down at the edge of the tree and rip open one of Abella’s letters, postmarked the first week of my incarceration.
Her raw anguish drips onto every line as she expresses her regret and sorrow. Page after page, I read the same sentiments in each letter, ink smudged by the tears that fell as she wrote.
She begs me to accept her visits. She tells me how much she wishes things could be different. Then, in a twist of fate, she tells me she accepts my decision not to see her—ending the final letter with one last line.
In my dreams, I’ll find you beneath the stars—where the lemons grow.
51
ABELLA
My key jiggles in the lock, sticking the way it always does. I haven’t bothered to get it fixed yet. There’s a familiarity in this routine, and I think it makes me feel like I’m not so far from home.
When I step inside my rental, there’s also familiarity in the worn terracotta flooring and the faint scent of lavender on the console table. I drop my keys into the ceramic bowl and hang my cardigan on the wrought iron hooks next to the door.