Page 32 of The Deal

Ugh.

I slump back in my chair and rub my flattened palm over my stomach. “I’m stuffed,” I say. I can’t remember the last time I felt this full.

Theprimi, or second course, was delicious homemade pasta and sauce. This was followed by the last course, which was the most tender meat I’ve ever eaten with vegetables.

My mum was a fantastic cook, and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her when I was younger. Being here brings back all the memories I’ve tried so hard to bury. Thinking of the happier times we spent as a family is bittersweet.

“For someone who wasn’t hungry, you demolished every morsel,” he says sarcastically.

“Do you eat like this every day?”

“Yes. Carmella is a wonderful cook. That’s why I keep her around. It reminds me of my mother”—he turns his attention away from me and stares off into the distance—“and how my life was before she left us.”

It’s funny how I was thinking the same thing. We seem to have something in common, at least.

“What happened to your mother?” I ask.

“Car accident,” is his only reply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“My mother died as well,” I say, watching his eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe me. He probably already knows I’m lying. My hands move to the crisp, white cloth napkin on the table as my finger draws a figure eight in the fabric. “In my head anyway,” I add quietly. “It’s easier to believe she was taken from us than to face the truth that she simply abandoned me instead … that she didn’t love me enough to take me with her or keep in contact.”

He stares at me momentarily, his gaze intense, before pushing back his chair and standing abruptly. Did I offend him?

Without a word, he tosses his napkin onto the table and turns to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Out!”

“Where?”

My question makes him hesitate for a moment. “None of your business,” he says curtly before adding, “I’ll have one of my men escort you back to your room.”

Chapter 11

Chloe

Five days! That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Alexander or been let out of this godforsaken room.

Since the first night I arrived and shared a meal with him, he’s been MIA, and my patience with him—and this place—is starting to wear thin. The only person I see now is Carmella when she brings me food.

She usually stays for a few minutes to chat, but I can see the unease in her eyes when I ask if I can speak with Alexander, get an update on my dad, or have some time outside this room to stretch my legs. I’ve been pacing back and forth like a caged lion for days. I need fresh air and something to keep me occupied! I’m not used to sitting still, and I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind.

I know he comes home at night because I hear his heavy footsteps as he walks down the hallway. I’ve even resorted to banging on the door and calling out to him when that happens, but he ignores my pleas.

Arsehole.

I’m so vocal it would be impossible for him not to hear me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbours heard me too. I feel like I'm going out of my mind, and I’m starting to losecontrol with every passing day. The unanswered questions are only adding to my desperation.

Will he ever let me go?

Is this what my life will look like from now on?

Did he keep his word and check on my dad like he promised?

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