Page 15 of Stolen Vows

Because that’s exactly what he’s counting on.

8

Cara

“You had a shower yesterday."

"And I want one again today!” I protest, pressing my hands into my hips and glaring at him with as much certainty as I can muster. "So, you going to let me, or not?”

He looks me up and down. I can tell that he has his doubts about this. Everything I do when I’m around him seems to come under this same scrutiny from him. But I have a plan, and I need to get into that bathroom to complete it. I will throw everything at him to force his hand and make it happen.

"You look fine to me."

"It’s not about how I look; it’s about how I feel," I shoot back. "You’re really going to keep me locked in that room like some kind of prisoner?”

That seems to get through to him. Something in his demeanor shifts, as though that turn of phrase doesn’t sit right with him. He plants a hand on the door, and nods for me to go inside.

"Fine. Ten minutes. Be quick."

I brush past him and into the room, pulling the door shut behind me.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I stand there in the bathroom, distinctly aware of how close he is to me right now. I have to make use of this time the best I can, or I am going to risk letting this man see far more than I want him to.

I glance towards the door again. I know that he can’t see through it, but I’m certain that his ears are tuned in to everything that is going on behind it. He has barely let me out of his sight since I arrived here, and these brief moments of respite I get in the bathroom I have been hanging onto for dear life.

But today, I’m in here for far more than just a shower. As I reach up beneath the latch on the bathroom mirror, I promise myself that I am going to make it out of here no matter how hard it might seem, no matter what kind of threats he has leveled at me about what waits for me on the other side. I have to push myself. I have to get out. I have to try...

I pause for a moment, catching my breath, and try to remind myself why this is as urgent as it is.

Ever since I saw that look on his face, his gaze lowering to the phone both times when he received a message from my father, I’ve known exactly what is going on. The first text had words; I could see that much on the screen. Hours later the second message looked like a skull and bones emoji. Coming from a man like my dad, that would be enough to put the fear of life or death in anyone.

My father is somewhere nearby, probably closing the distance on me even as I fiddle with this window.

"What do the messages say?” I demanded, attempting a different approach to try and shake the truth loose from him.

"Nothing."

His voice was curt, almost sharp. He thought he was leaving no room for argument, but I was going to test him on that. I rose from the bed before he could leave the bedroom again, making my way towards him swiftly and blocking the door.

"If it’s about me, I deserve to know about it."

His eyes settled on me. Irritation flashed in his gaze, but I didn’t budge an inch.

"It’s nothing to do with you."

"Oh, so it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you brought me here?" I replied, tipping my head to the side.

"Get out of the way, Cara."

"Not until you tell me what the messages said."

He took a step forward, close enough that I could feel the irritation coming off him in waves. Still, I didn’t budge an inch. I had grown up with Lucio Leone as a father; if he thought something like this would scare me, he’s wrong.

"Move."

He growled the word. Sighing, and figuring there was no other option, I reached down to his pocket where I knew he kept his phone. But before my fingers could make contact, he caught my wrist in his hand, whipping it up and away from him.

"Hands off me, Cara."

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