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)
She doesn’t respond, putting her face down into her hands in despair. As soon as we achieve cruising altitude, Marlena unbuckles her seatbelt. She shoots me a hateful glance before storming off to the end of the plane. I can still see her clearly, but I suppose the relative distance gives her some peace. She flops down in a chair facing away from me and slumps in her seat. It’s as if she’s made herself invisible, doing the only thing she can to get back at me for forcing her into this situation.
I sigh, knowing that I can make it up to her. Hopefully, she’ll forget all about this conflict when she sees the sunny shores of Italy. There’s romance in the old country, and I’m hoping that it can provide some relief. With any luck, Giovanni will be able to find Brandon, and this trip will have a happy ending after all.
CHAPTER 25
MARLENA
Exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep. My emotions are so raw, I can’t even sort them out, but my subconscious mind takes a shot at it. I can see Brandon running somewhere in the distance. I call his name, but he doesn’t turn around. I reach out for him, trying to make him understand how important it is for us to meet, but then he turns a corner, and I lose sight of him altogether.
A moment later, I’m standing in Francisco’s study. He looks at me like he wants to eat me, and I’m turned on. I try to remember why I hate him, but my body won’t let me. I walk closer, as if I’m drawn to him by a force I can’t resist.
Turbulence shakes the plane, and I wake up. I’m groggy and disoriented. There’s a crick in my neck that hurts like the devil. The plane stops shaking and evens out, allowing me to exhale in relief. I hate turbulence.
Glancing over at the window, all I can see are clouds. I wonder where Francisco’s taking me. It feels like we’ve been in the air for hours, but I can’t tell how long my nap was. I look around me, wondering if I can make it to the bathroom while maintaining my righteous rage. I decide it’s worth a try and get to my feet.
My legs are sore; in fact, my whole body’s sore. I’m glad to be up and moving, but I don’t dare check the cabin to see who else is wandering around. I’m trapped in this metal tube with a bunch of gangsters, one of whom I’m engaged to. I realize belatedly what kind of trouble I’m in. Not only is Brandon missing, but I’ve been kidnapped. I’m on my way to who knows where for who knows how long, with no option to extract myself.
I walk to the bathroom with as much poise as I can manage. There’s no reason to let them see how upset I am. I don’t meet anyone’s eyes, sneaking into the tiny stall and locking the door behind me.
The woman in the mirror looks disheveled. I spent half an hour doing my makeup and hair before coming on this trip, when I thought it was just a luxurious shopping trip. But now my eyes are red, my hair is a mess, and my lips are swollen. I look like I’ve been in a fight.
I splash some water on my face, and then I get the brilliant idea to wait out the trip in the bathroom. They can’t force me to leave, and at least I’ll have the locked door to protect me. But after an hour, someone knocks on the door and orders me to come out.
“We’re landing soon, ma’am,” a stranger says.
“Go away!” I snap.
“You have to get back in your seat,” they insist.
“I don’t want to,” I counter.
“Please, ma’am,” they reply.
My heart sinks. They’re acting so nonchalant, as if we’re all consenting adults on this plane. Doesn’t anyone realize that I’m here against my will? I understand that there are protocols they have to follow, but I should be exempt. I’m a prisoner, for God’s sake.
The knocking continues. I realize I’m not going to be able to stay. And the tiny bathroom isn’t much of a refuge anyway. So I unlock the door and step out, straightening my shirt dramatically.
A stewardess steps aside to let me pass. I don’t look at her, returning to the seat that is farthest from my soon-to-be husband. No one says anything, but I’m sure they’re all thinking about me. They’re probably wondering why I’m being so difficult and wishing that I would just shut up and behave.
I plop down and buckle my seatbelt. Maybe once we land, I can get myself out of this mess. Maybe there will be an American embassy I can go to and plead my case. Maybe there will be policemen and women at our destination who will help me.