Page 91 of Forbidden Sins

No.I can’t think about that now. I’ll break down if I do, and then all will be lost. I need to think, but it feels impossible, with grief and panic weighing me down.

A car is waiting for us at the edge of the forest, sleek and black with dark-tinted windows. The man carrying me tosses me into the back like a sack of flour, and the door slams shut behind me. I immediately scramble for the door on the other side, but it opens, Vito sliding in next to me as one of his men climbs intothe front, and another slides in next to me. I’m boxed in, and I hear the locks allclickas the driver starts the car.

“Drive,” Vito commands, and the car pulls forward, heading down the dirt path out of the forest.

I sit there, numb, my heart pounding. I’d actually started to believe that we might make it through this—Sebastian and I. That there might be a life, a future for us, in some other place away from all of this. But now it’s all come to a screeching halt. Everything has fallen apart.

Vito has me, and Sebastian is dead. My chest squeezes, my lungs tightening until I feel as if I can’t breathe. Tears slide down my cheeks, and though I manage to keep myself from sobbing, I can’t stop the tears. I feel as if my heart, still cracked and tender from Luis’ death, is shattering apart for a second time.

I feel as if nothing will ever be able to put me back together.

The view changes from forest to rural, and then an airplane hangar comes into view. The moment I’m dragged out of the car and marched toward the waiting jet, Vito’s men surround me, preventing any chance of my escape—although I’m not sure where I would run to now. I have no money, and I have no idea where we are. I wouldn’t make it far.

Vito motions to one of the men, and a hand wraps in my hair, dragging my head back. Vito comes to stand in front of me, a wicked, satisfied smile on his face. I feel a sharp prick in the side of my neck, and try to jerk away from the hand in my hair, but I’m only hauled backwards as I cry out.

“He loved you, I could see that,” Vito says conversationally, his eyes searching my face with glee. “Your bodyguard. I could see it every time he looked at you. Pathetic.” He turns, spitting on the ground. “A man like that, believing he could have someone like you. Thathewas more deserving of you than I am.”

I try to speak, to say something back, but my tongue feels as if it’s glued to the roof of my mouth. All of my senses are slowing,softening, and I can feel my body going limp.I’ve been drugged,I realize, but I can’t find the energy to fight back.

“I will have what I want,” Vito says flatly. “However I need to achieve it.”

The world swims around me. I try to lurch toward him, to get free, but my knees buckle, and I feel myself falling.

A pair of hands catches me, just before I hit the tarmac. And then everything goes dark.

—

I wake up in a darkened room, blinking awake with sticky eyes and mouth as my head swims, sending a wave of nausea through me. I press my hand to the back of my eyes, pushing myself up on one elbow, and I realize I’m in a bedroom I’ve never seen before.

I’m lying on one side of a king-sized bed, atop a gray silk-velvet comforter. All the furniture around me is dark wood, and there’s a large window to the right, covered with heavy curtains. I push myself up further, testing, and find that I can sit all of the way up with just a touch of dizziness.

As soon as I manage to swing my legs over the edge and stand up, I make a beeline for the door, swallowing back another wave of residual nausea. I grab the doorknob, twisting, but the door doesn’t give. It’s locked.

I go for the window next, throwing back the curtains. It’s daylight outside, but the view is one overlooking downtown Manhattan—and from high enough up that I have no hope of getting out that way, either.

I’m trapped.

I go back to the door, pressing my ear against it. I can hear the movement of people outside—my guard rotation, probably.Vito isn’t going to take any chances on making sure that he doesn’t lose his prize before his plan is finished.

I retreat to the bed, my legs weak and shaky. The reality of my situation is closing in on me rapidly, and my throat tightens, tears welling in my eyes.

They stream down my face, hot and relentless, as I pull my knees up to my chest, my forehead pressed to them. I have no idea if there’s any way out of this—if my father will deny Vito and try to save me, if he’ll even be able to. I don’t know what resources Vito has at his disposal.

A knock comes at the door a little while later, and a guard enters, bearing a tray with food. It looks like a chicken sandwich with avocado, and lettuce, and bacon, along with a Caesar salad on the side, and any other day, it would smell delicious. But my stomach revolts instantly, the panic and misery of the day making it impossible to consider eating.

The guard leaves the tray and exits without a word, locking the door behind him before I can say a word, or plead for help. Not that it would matter, anyway. I know they’re not going to help me.

I stare at the tray of food, then out the window, knowing I won’t be able to eat a bite. I can’t stop seeing that last moment with Sebastian, his body in the creek, blood pooling out around him from the wound in his leg.

I wonder if he’s still there. He must be. Vito wouldn’t have bothered recovering his body. The thought makes my heart wrench in my chest all over again, and a fresh wave of tears spills down my cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

The door opens again a little while later, and this time it’s Vito who enters. He’s changed into fresh clothes, not a speck of dirt or blood to be seen anywhere, his appearance utterly immaculate. As if everything in the forest didn’t happen at all.The only sign of it is the sling around his neck, holding his wounded arm in place.

“Have you calmed down?” he asks, stepping into the room and locking the door behind him. “Are you ready to be reasonable, Estella?”

I turn to face him, wiping away tears with the back of my hand as I straighten my spine and tip up my chin. “I won’t marry you,” I declare. “I don’t care what you do to me.”

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