Page 33 of The Deal

My poor father.

I know he’s the one who got me into this mess, but that doesn’t stop the overwhelming worry I carry for his well-being. The guilt and fear keep gnawing at me. I feel like I’m trapped between my own survival and the weight of my family’s fate.

I’m curled up in the foetal position on my mattress when Carmella returns to collect my lunch dishes. She is a marvellous cook, which has been the only silver lining in this hell on earth I now find myself in.

The tray she left me is still sitting on top of the dresser where she left it.

“Dolcezza,” she says, her gaze filled with concern as she notices I haven’t touched my food. Up to this moment, I’ve eaten everything she’s brought me, but as appetising as lunch looked, I couldn’t stomach any food. Abandoning the tray, she makes her way towards where I lay, stopping beside the bed. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call the doctor?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong,belladonna?”

“Do you really need an answer to that?” I say as tears sting the back of my eyes. “I’ve been locked in here for days, with only four walls to look at. I need fresh air … I need to feel the sunlight on my face.”

When my voice cracks, I feel the mattress dip when Carmella takes a seat on the side of the bed and sweeps her hand over my hair. “I will talk to Mr Mancini when he gets home later tonight.”

“Don’t bother; he doesn’t care about me or my well-being.”

“He cares more than you realise.”

I roll over and give her my back when she says that. “The man you think he is, Carmella, is not the man I know him to be,” I whisper, wiping away the pesky tear that leaks from my eyes.

I hear her sigh, but I don’t get a response. When she stands, I expect her to collect the tray containing my uneaten lunch and leave, but she does something surprising.

She crosses the room and retrieves the key from her apron pocket. When she unlocks the window and opens it, I sit up.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Letting in some fresh air. It will hopefully make you feel a bit better. Mr Mancini isn’t going to like me doing this, but we are on the second floor; it’s not like you can jump out of the window.”

Ha!She doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does, either.

I’d consider jumping off a four-storey building if it got me out of this hellhole and back with my dad.

I wait half an hour, and not a second more, before I leap off the bed and move towards the window. I’ve looked out of this countless times since I arrived here, so I have a fair idea of how high up I am.

I survey the yard before glancing back at the doorbriefly. When the coast is clear, I carefully remove the flyscreen and pop my head out.

Fresh air never smelt …fresher.

My stomach recoils when I see the sheer drop I need to scale, but a broken bone or two is a small price to pay for freedom. Right?

I only have one chance at this, so I give myself a moment to consider the best approach.

To start, I should probably change out of the silk nightdress I’m wearing. If I manage to pull this off, my outfit will only draw attention once I’m out on the street.

I dash over to the walk-in wardrobe and riffle through the drawers, grabbing a pair of leggings and a T-shirt before quickly dressing.

Sitting on the bench, I slip into a pair of joggers sans socks because I don’t have any more time to waste.

On my second day here, Carmella asked me for my shoe and bra size, which I can only assume was according to Alexander’s instructions. Later that day, a delivery arrived—boxes and boxes of casual and dressy shoes. All the ill-fitting bras were replaced with the right cup size.

After hastily gathering my long hair onto the top of my head, I wrap an elastic around the tangled mess and secure it.

When I stand to leave, I pause for a second and take one last look around at the beautiful things Alexander bought me, but I won’t miss them. I stopped caring about material things a long time ago.

I head back to the opened window and wince as I stick my head back out. It’s a long way down, and I already know this is going to hurt like a bitch.

Maybe I could tie the bedsheet to the bedpost like they do in the movies. It would lower me enough that the fall won’t be fatal.

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