Page 65 of Demon's Angel

“What?”

“Er, I need the bathroom.”

A resigned shrug, then he steps aside. With his hand on my arm he leads me down the short hallway and opens another door. I step inside and slide the bolt. It’s old-fashioned, but functional. One look out the window shows I’ve no chance of escape, but my business is too pressing to linger.

When I flush, a voice sounds, “Hurry up.”

Quickly I wash my hands, then open the bolt. Without a word I’m escorted back to the room I’d been in.

They forget me again. Darkness falls. My stomach growls, but I refuse to touch any food or drink.

I shouldn’t be here. This is my wedding night. I should be exploring, exploiting the new step we’ve taken in our relationship.Not here.

Demon will be climbing up the wall.The thought of how worried he’ll be doesn’t help me at all.

If only there was some way I could get out of here, but I haven’t a clue about how to pick a lock, my education in that subject had been lacking. Send a signal from the window? It won’t open, and there’s no one to see anything anyway.

Theo. Will he be wondering where I am, or happy that he’s being changed, fed and amused? That’s one worry I don’t have on my mind. His new grandmother, Mo, adores him, and Jayden has been a perfect find. Such a natural with children. Despite her youth, sometimes she seems more competent than me.

Though I presume this was a bedroom, there’s no bed, just the lumpy couch which has clearly been well-used. As the house fell silent some time ago, I try to make myself comfortable. I should be really tired, not having slept much last night. As I remember exactly what kept me from sleeping, I have to stifle a cry.It’s not fair. Just when Demon’s admitted his feelings for me, I’ve been stolen away.In the still and quiet darkness, I allow myself the horrific thought I might never see him again.

I need to remain positive. Can’t afford to think like that.

A sound disturbs me. Just a coyote howling, followed by a night owl.Is there anyone in the house at all? Have I been left here alone?

My throat feels parched. The room is stuffy and I’m feeling lightheaded.I need water.If there’s no one around, would it hurt to try what they left? My hands find the bottle and trace the lid. It appears sealed.

To escape I need my strength. I won’t eat, but… I twist the cap, feeling it catch as the seal breaks, and then take a sip, then another. Soon half the bottle is gone and I feel… fine. Slightly refreshed, I put the rest aside for the morning.

Dawn breaks. The room faces east, so I get a bird’s-eye view of the sun rising over the horizon. Not that I appreciate the beauty of it. This time yesterday, I was waking up with Demon, feeding and changing Theo with no inkling that my hopes and dreams were going to be taken away. With nothing to do, I sit by the window, staring out, noticing clouds starting to gather, the sun slipping behind them. I watch the first raindrops fall. Then hear the patter, then the heavy roar of a monsoon. Thunder rumbles, lightning flashes.

In the midst of the storm the door opens.

I jump, startled, the heaven’s drumroll having obscured the sound of the lock being opened. I fear Angelino, but it’s not him, it’s a woman instead. She walks in with a graceful movement, almost gliding into the room. She’s tall, elegant, but not that young, perhaps in her early to mid-forties. Though she’s kept herself in shape, there are age lines around her eyes, and silver streaks in her carefully coiffured hair. She immediately intimidates me, just with her haughty stare.But I’m the one being wronged here.

My dress, so carefully chosen twenty-four hours ago by Moira, has suffered from the length of time it’s been worn; now it’s decidedly crumpled and creased. While in itself it’s stylish, beside her I feel scruffy. But I force my back to straighten and stand as tall as I can. “Why are you holding me prisoner?”

“My name is Vitalia. I am Angelino’s wife.”

With that pronouncement I freeze. Then my temper blows up. “Your husband raped me!”

“Rape? I don’t believe force was involved. Or that’s not what the court said.”

As she refers to her husband getting off scot-free for what he had done, I take a step closer. “You don’t care if your husband plays away from home?”

“There are matters you don’t understand,piccolinoViolet.”

There’s a damn lot I don’t understand.

“Well, why don’t you fill me in?”

For a few seconds I’m not sure she’s going to reply, then she gives an exaggerated Italian shrug as if it’s no matter to her whether I know or not.

“Angelino and I have remained childless, a sad situation as you can understand. To Italians, family is everything. He has no heir to groom, no one to follow him. Until now. Do you understand?”

He wants my sonbecause he could have no children of his own. I place my hands on my hips. “He won’t get Theo.”

Her lips curve in a most unattractive way. A half-smile, a smirk, leaving an impression there’s something she knows that I don’t.

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