Page 158 of Carnal

His father is ten times worse.

Biagio's just as dangerous. He tried to burn my eyeball out.

I'd give anything to get my memories back, but it's a blank slate with little pieces that quickly disappear.

Jacopo announces, "Frida will be here with the dresses soon. You'll make sure that you're nothing but presentable for tomorrow night. Do you understand me?" I try to breathe in fresh air, but the cigarette smoke is too thick. I refrain from coughing. Anytime I do that, Jacopo yells at me. So I reply, "Yes, sir."

"Well, go on. Get presentable so you don't embarrass me when Frida comes," he orders, motioning for me to leave.

I glance at my designer pants and shirt, wondering what is currently unpresentable about me. After all, I assume either Biagio or Jacopo approved all the clothes in the closet.

"Go," he seethes.

I hold my head high and leave the room. When I get to the bedroom, I close the door and sigh in relief that Tracy isn't here.

She's a pest that never leaves my side. She's constantly in my room, giving me shots. I don't understand why I still have to take them. I don't even understand what the shots are supposed to be doing for me. I asked her, but she won't tell me. She told me any questions about my medical care should be directed to Biagio.

Two days after I arrived, I refused to let her shoot me up with whatever it was in her little vial. That resulted in Jacopo storming into the bedroom, tying me to the bedposts, and Tracy sticking me with the needle. For two days, he kept me there. When I finally got released, I didn't fight it anymore.

If only my memories would come back. I know I don't belong here, but there's no way I can leave. Jacopo's guards are everywhere. Plus, I don't even know where I would run to.

At times, little flashes of memories pop into my mind. But as soon as they come, they go. I keep expecting the flashes to turn into longer memories. I'm sure I'll remember my life then. If I did choose this, I want to understand why. What was it about Biagio I was attracted to? How did we fall in love? Why did I get involved with someone so dangerous?

The other problem is I'll remember something one day, and I can't remember it the next. So when Jacopo released me two days ago, I started writing down what my memories were. And the next day, it made me sicker to know that I didn't remember anything about the previous day's flashbacks.

I stare at the closet and select a Chanel dress, hoping it meets Jacopo's approval. I step into it and reach for a pair of Jimmy Choo heels then freeze.

A familiar man with dark hair and eyes, a chiseled face, and a ripped body—but not from steroids like I'm positive Biagio's is—flashes in my mind. He drags his fingers down my calf and then slides an identical shoe on my foot.

Butterflies burst in my stomach. Tingles raced up my spine. I laugh and say, "Tristano! We're going to be late."

He wiggles his eyebrows. In a deep voice, he declares, "I'm going to take these off later tonight."

"Knock, knock!" A woman's chipper voice drags me out of my flashback.

I step out of the closet and freeze. She's as old as Jacopo. Her jet-black hair is in a perfect French twist. There's no gray anywhere. Her makeup is flawless, and she's so skinny, I wonder how she survives. The formfitting white dress must be a size 00.

That's what Jacopo wants me to look like.

Tristano. That’s the name of the man Biagio said kidnapped me before we got into the accident.

Why was he putting my shoe on? It doesn't seem like I was scared of him.

The woman snaps her fingers, and two men roll a rack into the room. It's full of different evening dresses.

"You must be Pina." She beams at me.

"Oh. Sorry. Yes, I'm Pina," I reply, unsure how to react to this woman who appears so happy in this miserable house.

"You must be so excited about your engagement! Congratulations, by the way!"

My stomach churns. "Thank you."

She claps her hands together. "Well, shall we get started?"

"Umm...sure." I walk closer to the rack.

Frida flicks through the dresses, asking, "So what would you say your color is? Is there something that's your favorite? Or should we go with classic black?"

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