I tried again and exhaled in relief as the tall gates finally crept open, slow as fucking molasses. I inched the car forward, too aware of Marco just a few feet away as finally, finally, the gates opened wide enough that I hit the gas, the tires screaming against stones, kicking up dirt and rock and leaving him literally in the dust.

I grinned, seeing him pull his phone out and put it to his ear, no doubt trying to call Salvatore, tell him I’d broken one of his stupid rules. Too bad Salvatore’s phone sat in the toilet.

That made me laugh.

I didn’t calm down on the drive over to Isabella’s house. The opposite, actually. What was the point of all of this? Why take me when he wanted someone else? Why?

Because daddy said he had to if he wanted to be boss.

This was so fucked up. Salvatore’s father controlled him. He had to do what he did, or his father would take away what was his right. He’d give it all to Dominic. My life didn’t matter. What I felt didn’t matter.

Felt. No, I felt nothing. Nothing tender, at least.

But I was beginning to trust him.

The devil you know.

At least Salvatore’s indifference to me kept me safe. Franco or Dominic, they would do worse things to me. Of that, I had no doubt.

So why did his indifference hurt me? What did I want?

Isabella’s house looked empty when I got there. I pulled the car up in the driveway, far enough back that it wouldn’t be visible from the street. I wondered if she kept the spare key where we used to in case we locked ourselves out. But as I walked down the long drive back to the house, I saw Isabella’s face peer out of the kitchen window. I raised my hand in greeting, but she didn’t wave. Her face grew worried. I saw her rush from the window and throw open the back door.

“Lucia?”

I fell into her arms, tears breaking loose, although I couldn’t say exactly why. What would I tell her? How could I explain that I was jealous and hurt? That after all the things he’d done to me, all the things they’d done to me, I wanted him. Because I did. I wanted Salvatore.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

We walked inside and went right into the kitchen.

“Sit down.”

She pulled a chair out and set a box of tissues in front of me. She busied herself making some tea, casting glances my way as I blew my nose and mopped my face, forcing deep breaths in and out, trying to get myself under control. Isabella set a fresh cup of tea in front of me and then took the seat across from mine, taking a sip from her cup.

“What’s happened?”