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)
I give the woman a tip and drop a small fortune on three bags’ worth of designer clothing. Then we get back in the limo, ostensibly to go home. Marlena pulls out her phone to text her brother and is disappointed when he doesn’t text back.
“Maybe he’s out of battery,” I suggest.
“Maybe,” she agrees, looking sad. “Can we go home now? I’m sure he’ll be there.”
“Of course,” I say, reaching across the seat to kiss her knuckles.
She settles back, assuming that we’re on our way home. But the driver knows better. He’s going to the airport, where I have a private plane gassed up and ready to go. It takes a little bit longer than she expects. And after a while, she realizes that the scenery outside the windows isn’t reflective of a drive back to the mansion.
“Where are we going?” she demands.
I don’t say anything. I can see an argument coming, and I don’t want to engage. This is better all around, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
“Francisco!” she shouts, leaning toward me. “Where are we going?”
Just then, the limo pulls up to the runway. Marlena whips her head around, gazing up at the jet just outside the vehicle. She screams, beating at me with her fists as if that will somehow make me turn the car around.
I ease my way out of the backseat without hurting her. Still mute, I turn to help her out, but she refuses to come. The driver steps around to the trunk to retrieve my things. As he walks up the stairs onto the plane, I have a choice to make.
I don’t want to force her to come aboard, but there’s no way I’m letting her stay in the States. She’s too exposed. Her brother’s already missing, and I have no idea if he’s still alive. That kind of information could potentially cause her great pain, and I don’t want to share it with her. But it’s a toss-up between informing her of the gravity of her situation or making a much bigger scene out here on the tarmac.
I walk around the other side, yank the back door open, and reach for her. She’s about to scoot away, determined to stay put, but I’ve got different plans. It takes all my strength not to hurt her as I wrap my arm around her waist.
She hits me on the head and the neck, screaming for help as if I’m about to kidnap her, which I guess I am. I drag her off of the seat and throw her over my shoulder. She kicks her feet, making it difficult to carry her. But I manage to get her up the stairs and onto the airplane without incident. I catch some of my guys laughing and scowl at them. This isn’t funny.
They sober up quickly, turning around to occupy themselves with something else.
I dump Marlena into a seat and snap on her seatbelt. She spits at me, which is nearly the last straw. I’m doing all this to protect her, so a little bit of gratitude seems to be in order. But she’s furious, and not thinking.
I don’t blame her. From her point of view, I’m being cold and unreasonable. I still haven’t told her what I learned about her brother, and she doesn’t understand why she can’t see him. I signal my man to close the hatch. The pilot checks to make sure everyone’s accounted for before starting the final preflight check.
Marlena begins to sob. She knows that she’s defeated, and she gives up the fight. I don’t know which is worse, the screaming, kicking version of my bride or this miserable, broken one. I want to comfort her, but I know she doesn’t want to talk to me. So, I sit down opposite her and snap my own seatbelt.
Around us, all the rest of my men sit down, prepared for takeoff.
The plane launches into the air, causing Marlena even more pain. My heart’s breaking as I watch her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I knew I might marry again after Alessia, but not like this. Not to a woman who doesn’t love me, or to someone who thinks I’m a monster. I tell myself that I’ve got the best of intentions, but somehow, that doesn’t change things.
As we’re soaring up toward the clouds, I realize that I’ve got to explain myself. It’s not going to be easy, but the longer I wait, the harder it will be. So, I draw a breath before launching into a blunt assessment of the situation.
“Brandon is missing,” I report. “We found his cell phone, but we can’t find him. Giovanni is looking, but at the moment, I can’t be sure if he’s alive or dead.” Marlena moans, letting out a scream so wretched that I can feel it in my bones. I have to press on. “I wanted to get you as far away as possible. You’ll be safe for the time being. And things may not be as bleak as I’m making them out to be.”