Page 222 of Mine Again
I chuckle darkly. This is the kind of grandeur that screams desperation, marble and mirrors begging the world to believe the owner matters, when beneath it all, he’s small and insecure.
Perhaps he’s compensating?
I first woke up here two days ago, my head pounding, a chemicalfog dragging me under like I’d been drunk and drowning at once.
I had no idea where I was, the disorientation crawling cold under my skin. But fear never came. It should have. But instead, there was only one thought.
Luca will come for me.
And it won’t take him five years this time… probably not even a week.
Escorted by a uniformed butler into a vast dining room, I found Carter Hale seated at the head of the table in a chair that looked more like a throne. I recognized him even before he introduced himself from the picture Luca had shown me.
He magnanimously apologized for drugging me, insisting I was a valued guest here at his Chicago estate. I laughed in his face. I couldn’t help it. We both knew I was his prisoner.
My remark that guests don’t get kidnapped and carted across oceans like contraband was ignored.
He just smiled with the kind of practiced charm that might fool women who chase money and status.
I’m not that woman.
After breakfast, which I didn’t touch, he took me on a grand tour of his palace, enlightening me about the origin of every painting, every gaudy decoration, every ‘priceless’ antique. It was like listening to a man recite Wikipedia articles and congratulate himself for memorizing them.
In between explanations, he gloated about how Luca is finished, how it won’t be long before the authorities drag him in. How even if Luca managed to find proof that Delaware wasn’t his doing, he’d never use it, not while I’m tucked away as his ‘guest’.
Hale believes holding me makes him untouchable, and Luca miserable. The latter I believe.
Luca will be so worried. But that will only drive him harder to find me.
Hale showed me the mock-up picture Interpol has circulated worldwide. He smirked as he told me it was what gave us away inTangier.
“I have eyes everywhere, especially at ports and airports,” he bragged. “One of them spotted Luca at the jetty in Tangier. And because he was accompanied by a woman, you, he stood out.”
So, this is how he found us. If it hadn’t been for that one stroke of bad luck, Hale might be the prisoner right now. And not in a palace of mirrors, but a concrete cell with steel doors, and men who’d make sure he never smiled again.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ornate ceiling. Painted cupids float among clouds, their bows aimed at half-dressed lovers tangled in an embrace.
It’s supposed to be romantic, but all it does is mock me. I reach for the pillow beside me and clutch it to my chest, as if it could make up for the space where Luca should be.
I miss him so much.
We’ve only been apart two days, three if you count his time in that cellar in Tangier, and it already seems unbearable. Maybe because I only just got him back, only just relearned what it was to breathe with his presence beside me again.
Those five years apart dissolved once I got over the initial shock. I was angry with him at first, furious even, but time and distance never stood a chance against what we are. The connection never dulled. It was like slipping back into something that had always been ours.
Luca will find me. He’s fought his way back to me before, and it will be no different this time. He’s coming for me. I can feel it.
I shuffle to the edge of the mattress and swing my legs over. The bed is absurdly large, another example of Hale compensating for something small.
After a quick shower, I pull on one of the dresses from the walk-in closet he stocked for me. Glamorous, expensive, and completely impractical for day-to-day wear.
But I don’t have a choice. It’s either this or nothing at all. Hale seems to take pleasure in dressing me like a doll and pretending I belong in his world. No doubt he’s taking pictures to taunt Luca with.
I wait until the door is unlocked by Gerard, the butler, who always seems to know exactly when I’m ready. No doubt there are cameras in here. Hopefully, Hale has enough decency not to put them in the bathroom or the walk-in closet, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
I follow Gerard into the breakfast room, counting my steps to steady myself. A buffet stretches across a side table, every dish laid out like a hotel spread. Silver covers. Crystal pitchers. Enough food for ten, though it’s only the two of us. Typical Hale.
He greets me with a smile he probably thinks is charming. “Good morning, Isabella.”
