Page 109 of Velvet Cruelty

Chapter Seventeen

January Whitehall

I spend seven days alone, locked in the east wing. Every morning Harvey or Mr. Gretzky brought me food I didn’t eat. I pleaded with them to tell me something—anything—about my Zia, about what the others were doing. They never did. One time Mr. Gretzky asked if he could have Eli’s ruby necklace back. “If he wants it, he can get it himself,’ I told him.

Eli never came.

On the third day I tried to pick the lock on my door with a pair of nail scissors. I had no clue what I was doing and the scissors slipped and cut my hand. Doc burst into the room with another needle. When I woke up, anything I could use to break stuff or hurt myself was gone. He left the necklace though.

On the morning of the eighth day, I come up with a plan. It’s terrible and probably going to get me killed, but I don’t care what happens to me now. If Zia Teresa got hurt because of Mr. Parker, then nothing else matters. She has four daughters and eleven grandkids and she’s already giving her whole life to me. I need to get out of here and make sure she’s okay. Besides, everyone from my old life must already think I’m dead by now. I have nothing left to lose.

I put on my lightest dress, strip off my socks and braid my hair, tucking Zia’s St. Christopher into the tightest folds. The wind is howling outside, bending the great big trees almost in half.

When I hear someone coming, I press my ear to the hardwood floor. A slow, even tread says it’s Mr. Gretzky bringing me breakfast. He’s who I was hoping for. He always comes further into the room than Harvey and he seems more inclined to deal with a problem himself than contact the guys.

I open the bedroom window as wide as it will go, then creep behind the door. Part of me knows this can’t work. It’s a childish trick Margot and I played on each other when we were kids. Hiding behind the door then jumping out and yelling ‘boo!’ But it’s the best I have.

Mr. Gretzky knocks on the door. “Miss Whitehall? Your breakfast.”

He unlocks the door, and it swings out, concealing my body. My heart pounds against my chest so hard I’m afraid he’ll hear it. He takes a step forward and puts the breakfast tray on my dresser. “Miss Whitehall?”

I try not to breathe.

“Oh shit,” Mr. Gretzky says, and I hear a flurry of footsteps.

I peek out from my hiding place. He’s at the open window looking down. It’s my moment. I slip around the door and then I’m there. On the other side. With a rush I see he’s left the key in the lock.

“Hey!” Mr. Gretzky yells.

Time slows down. I pull the door closed as he lunges toward me. My fingers fumble at the key and I’m sure he’s going to reach me before I can lock it, but then the metal turns with the sweetest little click.

Mr. Gretzky’s body slams into the wood so hard it pushes the door forward like a wave. “Unlock it! Let me out!”

“Sorry, Mr. Gretzky.” I take the key and run, the dusty carpet soft beneath my bare feet.

I dash down a banister, breathing fast. I never expected to get this far. My plan ended with Mr. Gretzky tackling me. From the loud bangs echoing behind me, he won’t be locked in my room for long. I sprint faster. I just need to get to Eli or Doc or Bobby—

A door to my right swings open and a huge, scarred man steps into my path. The only person I didn’t want to see. There’s no time to change direction. I slam into Adriano Rossi at a hundred miles an hour. His body feels like cinderblocks. I struggle backward but his hand closes on my shoulder, biting down. “You.”

There’s a crash behind us and Mr. Gretzky appears, panting. “I’m sorry, sir. She was hiding. I thought she jumped out the window.”

Adriano glares at Gretzky. “You let her escape.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“She can go back in the cage.”

“No!” I scream, desperately trying to organize my thoughts. “I need to talk to you!”

“Shut up.” Adriano snarls. “Gretzky. Cage.”

“I know something! Adriano, I know where Mr. Parker keeps the Orchard.”

His fingers tighten on my shoulder. “What?”

“He has a secret safe. I heard him talk about it on the phone. I bet the Orchard is in there. And even if it isn’t, I bet a heap of important stuff is!”

Adriano’s green eyes burn into mine. “You’re lying.”

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