Page 142 of Cruel Knots

I shouldn’t have to choose between the people I love. They’ll understand why I did this, I tell myself. They value family over everything else.

My throbbing heart thunders in my ears as we walk through the crowd in the entrance hall. The stranger’s large, wide chest is a great cover for me. I make sure to keep my face lowered, acting like a dutiful daughter who’s helping her drunk dad navigate through the throng.

I breathe heavily as we both step outside the manor. A cold breeze blows by, lifting the stray strands of hair away from my forehead.

“What are you waiting for, stupid girl?” the man chides. “Call Diego.”

“I lost my phone,” I lie.

He curses in Italian. “Here,” he says, thrusting his phone in my hand. “Call the fucking chauffeur.”

I don’t have trouble finding Diego’s number in his contact list. It’s at the very top among the recently-called IDs.

“Is this Diego?” I say when an unfamiliar male voice answers the call.

“Who’s this?” the man asks suspiciously.

“Emilia asked me to take her father home,” I lie through my teeth.

“Oh,” he says, his tone softening. “Is Mr. Marco ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The call switches off. My heart beats so hard, it’s becoming difficult to breathe. My gaze roves all over the ground, taking in the armed guards patrolling nearby.

To my utter relief, no one pays me any attention. Burying my face in the elderly man’s chest, I continue to pretend to be his escort.

A luxurious Bentley smoothly drives up to us and stops.

A man of about forty, with closely cropped hair, peers at me through the window of the car. I guess him to be Diego. “Miss Emilia won’t be joining us?” he asks.

“She’s busy with Daniel Ricci,” I lie, meeting his suspicious gaze.

He nods, seemingly aware of his boss’s intention of setting up his daughter with him. Climbing out of the car, he opens the back passenger door and helps me put Marco in the seat.

Heart beating hard, I climb in after him.

A moment later, Diego is back in his seat and starting up the engine. Within seconds, the car is moving through the dark, shadowy grounds.

The guards at the exit gate stop the car. Two armed men come to peer inside the car. I lean against a barely conscious Marco and hide my face against his bulky biceps.

To my astonishment, the car starts moving again. Feeling bolder, I risk a peek at the window.

The car is already outside the gates!

I did it, I think dazedly. I escaped Volkov Manor!

The car picks up pace, driving us through a nearly empty highway and heading straight for Ashville. Marco snoozes beside me, leaving me to delve into my thoughts.

The toughest part of my escape is over but I still need to free myself from my current companions. My mind whirs, thinking of excuses.

It takes us nearly an hour to reach the town’s premises. The car is moving through a posh district filled with closely towering skyscrapers when an idea forms in my head.

I’m fairly familiar with this area of town. If I can get out of the car, I can get rid of Marco and his chauffeur.

“Stop the car, please!” I shout and clamp my hand over my mouth.

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