Page 49 of Of Lies and Shadows

For surviving.

For enduring.

For being apathetic when I should have screamed. For being complacent in the life I was born into.

Sometimes, I swear she glares at me. This pale, tired girl with hollow eyes and silent rage. She asks questions I can’t afford to answer.

So I keep my head down. I towel off. I dress like the nanny I’m supposed to be.

Because the only way out of this is forward.

I’m just about to step out and wake the twins when a soft knock lands on my door.

I freeze, heartbeat skipping.

Probably Bruno with the pill. The reminder alone makes me wince. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I can still feel Dante inside me. The soreness. The stretch. The heat of him and the way his cum keeps leaking out of me, an echo of something I never asked for.

I open the door.

“Hey—” The word is barely out before my voice falters.

It’s not Bruno. It’shim. Dante.

He stands in front of me in the hallway, already impeccably dressed, broad shoulders stiff, eyes unreadable.

My body tenses, and wariness slides in like a second skin.

“Are the children up?” I ask quickly, hoping, praying, that’s why he’s here.

“The children?” he echoes, glancing vaguely down the corridor. “I don’t know.”

The knot in my stomach tightens.

If he’s here for sex again, I’ll have to endure it. Submit. That’s what the contract says. That’s what he said.

But god, I’m not ready. Not today.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

No. Please, no.“I need to wake them in ten minutes,” I say, clinging to the routine like a lifeline.

“It won’t take long,” he insists and then steps inside without waiting.

Of course not. This is his house, and I’m his property.

I take a few steps back, pretending to tidy the already neat room, trying not to show how my body tenses as he closes the door behind him. The quiet click of it sounds too final.

“Francesca.”

The way he says my name, sharp, commanding, freezes me in place. I turn slowly, folding my hands in front of me to hide the shake in my fingers.

“I really should get the kids up,” I murmur. “We have the uniform fitting today and?—”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.” His words landlike a slap, stunning in their unexpected softness.

And yet, every instinct I have flares in alarm. Is it guilt? A trap? Pity?

I don’t answer. I wouldn’t know how to even if I tried.

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