The moment she was safely in the guesthouse, she took a long hot shower, wincing as she lifted her arms to try to cope with the mass of wild hair falling past her waist. So much of it. She thought about grabbing scissors and whacking it off, but it would only grow thicker and longer and drive her crazy, so she left it down to dry after squeezing all the water out of it with a towel. Very, very carefully, she applied makeup over her bruised, swelling eye and the lacerations at her temple. Thankfully, most of the damage Paolo had done couldn’t be seen when she wore clothes.

He would come to check on her, or Alonzo would, so she left her bag packed, slipped into the bed and waited, praying they would come while it was still dark enough for her to slip away. She couldn’t drive her own car because the garage she’d parked in was attached to the house and part of the declared crime scene, but there was another garage down by the winery where the cars her grandfather collected were installed. All keys were hung in that garage and she had the password to the lock.

She sat for a long time, her hair falling all around her, afraid to actually go to sleep. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she was exhausted, and she couldn’t miss her opportunity. By tomorrow, Paolo would have her grandfather’s army of men looking for him to give the commands, and he would assume that role. He would also act as if she belonged to him, and the men would take it for granted that she did.

She tried to take a deep, calming breath, but her ribs protested and she forced herself to just sit, mapping out every move of her escape. They didn’t know about her leopard. That would be her first line of escape, but she had to find a way to take clothes with her. When she heard the soft footfalls—and it was more a feeling than an actual sound—she slid between the sheets, swung her head to allow her hair to fall over her face, closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

Paolo stood over her for a long time and then his fingers brushed at her hair with surprising gentleness. “Siena?”

She lifted her lashes instantly, but didn’t move her head. “Is something else wrong, Paolo?” Her voice trembled. She knew she gave the appearance of being broken. Fragile. Lost. Because she was. Letting him see that vulnerability aided her this time.

“No. I’m just checking on you. The doctor said he could give you a sedative.”

“Please tell him thank you, but I’m so tired I think I’ll sleep for a month. I don’t want to face this. What will I do without him?” Her voice broke, and it wasn’t even feigned.