Page 34 of They Call Him Reaper

Conditioning is a bitch.I feel like I have a small taste of what of the hell Dante encountered in the mind-fuck department. He didn’t return to the hotel room, but it took me two days before it even occurred to me to try to leave the room. I may not have had any money or an ID, but I did have a fancy wristband on my wrist that gave me all-inclusive access to everything.

I’d gotten so used to not moving without Dante’s permission that I was following his orders in his absence. I checked everywhere and didn’t find any kind of note to tell me where he’s at or what we’re doing. It appears to just be me and my things from the island. It spiked my curiosity, but I didn’t panic since leaving me here with nothing doesn’t make sense. Instead, I decided to see the resort.

I walked around like a lost child, taking in the beauty of the hotel. It was truly fancy and gave me honeymoon vibes, yet I was there all alone, trying not to imagine how it would be for Dante to be my actual husband on a real honeymoon. I felt more warmth than fear and began to wonder if I’ve completely lost my mind. A roving server offered me a drink from her tray, and I took it with a smile. The first sip was heaven. The tastewas the perfect amount of fruity, but not too much. My stomach grumbled, prompting me to follow the delicious scent of food.

I was happy that the food was as good as smelled and spent the rest of the day looking into all the amenities included with my band. It’s a different color than the rest of them, which means I have VIP access according to the lady at the front desk. She had me at unlimited spa services.

I’d happily kept myself busy at the resort, but now that I’m on day four, I find myself sitting in a lounge chair poolside, trying not to cry with yet another drink in my hand. I should be happy that my abductor has seemingly disappeared. Elated that I can try to piece together a normal life. I should be making phone calls, but who would I call? I couldn’t possibly call the cause of all this even if he’s my father by blood. I could never look at him or the people who work for him the same. He’d know and that wouldn’t go well for me. I should have made more friends and built stronger relationships. I briefly mourn my lack of substantial relationships before wondering if maybe Dantewantsme to call Father.

Maybe he’s lurking, waiting for me to make the call so he can ambush him. I, however, don’t get to think about it long because a Spanish gentleman approaches.

“Mrs. Rodriguez?” I give him a blank look, so he says it again. “Jada Rodriguez.”

It takes a moment to remember that Dante once named us Jada and Hugo Rodriguez, but I nod with a smile. “Yes, that’s me. Sorry. Newlywed: I’m not used to being referred to as Mrs. Rodriguez yet,” I explain with a fake laugh.

He relaxes and returns a smile of his own. “Of course. Your husband asked for you to be in the room in ten minutes.”

I nod in the process of gathering my things. “Will do. Thank you.”

Excitement I should not feel courses through my veins at the thought of sharing all of this with him. Only when I get to the door do I consider that he may not be happy that I left. There’s only one way to find out. I push the door open and am hit by the cool blast of the air conditioning, but nothing else. There still isn’t a sign of Dante. Dejected, I sit on the side of the bed and hold back the tears that threaten again.Why would he leave me alone here?

The beige room phone starts ringing and I stare at it for a moment because it never rings. My brain finally kicks in and I pick it up.

“Hello?”

“I called you earlier.”

His voice soothes me unexpectedly. I didn’t realize exactly how much I’ve gotten used to hearing it every day.

“Sorry. I was at the pool. Time seems to go by faster outside.”

“It’s fine. Do what you want. I just called to say happy birthday.”

I look at the phone for a moment, because he’s entirely too meticulous to make this kind of mistake.

“Um, it’s not my birthday.”

“Go to the safe,Gatita.”

I get up with the cordless phone and go as he instructed. “Okay, I’m in the closet.”

“Type in 0801.”

I type in the code and the safe beeps, then clicks open. I pull the latch open to find a passport, license, bank card, and a phone. All saying my name is Jada Rodriguez with today as my date of birth.

“What’s this and why August 1, 1995?”

“Consider it your Independence Day.”

My stomach flips, but I ask anyway. “Why?” The line remains silent, and I’m not sure if he’s going to hang up or just ignore the question. “Dante?”

More silence stretches between us until he releases a heavy sigh. “I was supposed to kill you today.”

My throat gets clogged with a bunch of emotions, but relief isn’t at the top of that list like it should be. I try to talk around the ache in my throat.

“Dante.”

“Check out is tomorrow. Goodbye,Gatita.”

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