Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 49
MARLENA
Ican’t find Francisco anywhere. I search the entire first floor of the house, with at least half a dozen of Francisco’s men watching me. They look up as I enter the living room, but they don’t say anything. My own bodyguard even follows me into the billiard room, seeming perplexed, but not offering any assistance.
“Where’s Francisco?” I finally ask.
He shrugs.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
“He’s out,” the bodyguard says.
I narrow my eyes at him. “When will he be back?”
“I don’t know,” the man says.
I sigh, stomping back upstairs to find Brandon. He’s still in my room, going through my things. I catch him red-handed, but he doesn’t seem in the least bit ashamed.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Just looking,” he says.
“At what?”
“These are some nice clothes,” he remarks, setting down the dress that I had previously draped over the sofa.
“Thanks,” I say. “Francisco is out.”
“What does that mean?” Brandon asks.
“I don’t know,” I respond. “They won’t tell me where he’s gone or when he’ll be back.”
“Can you text him?” Brandon inquires.
“Good idea,” I say, pulling out my phone. Clearly my head isn’t on straight when the solution to contacting Francisco is so simple.
Where are you? I text my husband.
No response. The message hangs on “delivered.” Whatever’s going on, he’s not bothering to open the app. That doesn’t leave me with a lot of options. I can sit down and wait, or I can sit down and wait. The problem is that I’m anxious. There are a lot of things happening right now, and the thought of waiting for an unknown amount of time is almost painful.
I set my phone down and drift to the window, hoping I can somehow will Francisco to appear in the driveway. “Have you ever been to Dad’s grave?” I ask.
“Not since he was buried,” Brandon answers. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “It might be nice to say goodbye and finally start to put this whole debacle behind us.”
“Sure,” Brandon agrees with a shrug.
“Really?” I ask, turning around to face him.
“Yeah,” he says. “Why not? Maybe tell him what a shit father he was for leaving us with no idea what was coming for us.”
“You’re not scared to go outside?” I wonder.
“No more than I was before,” he says. “I don’t exactly feel safe anywhere, not even in your husband’s mansion.”
“Okay,” I reply, deciding on a course of action. Andretti and Marcello are in the wind. There’s no way they would be stupid enough to come here. Francisco isn’t going to stop hunting them either. He’s promised to do everything he can to keep us safe, and I believe him. But I can’t stay here without any answers. I feel like I’m suffocating the longer I stay confined to these walls. Brandon and I need to move forward, to put the past behind us. I deserve to say one more goodbye to my father before flying off to Italy, or committing to whatever comes next with Francisco, and there’s no time like the present.
The problem is how. I’m sure my bodyguard wouldn’t approve. He would have to get his Don’s permission, and it seems like Francisco isn’t available right now. I look out the window, wondering how safe it would be to climb out from the second floor. I don’t want to bother anyone, but I really want to escape. It will be just for a little while, just a quick trip to my father’s grave and then we’ll be back in time for dinner.
I force the window open. It takes a little bit of work because it’s probably been a while since the window has been opened. I pause to listen for an alarm, but I can’t hear anything. Leaning out, I notice that there are some bushes below us. It wouldn’t be a big deal to jump down.
“Are we going out the window?” Brandon asks suspiciously.
I turn to him with a sigh. “It’s easier this way. I don’t think I can convince the bodyguards to let us go.”
“I’m on board,” Brandon says. “The sooner we can get out of this place, the better.”
“We’re not running away,” I tell him.
“Speak for yourself,” Brandon snaps.
I study him for a moment, trying to decide what to do. He’s still injured. I don’t know if the jump will hurt him, or if I’m willing to run the risk of him not coming back with me. But he is an adult, and he can make his own decisions. If he chooses not to return to Francisco’s home with me, that’s his choice.
“Should we?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes, we should,” he decides for both of us.
He eases me out of the way and peeks out the window himself. I stand back, watching as he puts one leg out and straddles the windowsill. So far, so good. There is no reaction from the security force. It seems like we’re in the clear, so Brandon pulls his other leg over and drops out of sight.