While Enzo is gone, I do everything I can to put a stop to this arrangement. Each conversation I have with my father ends in a screaming battle of wills, though he refrains from hitting me again. I refuse to sit back and accept my fate. I won’t. I would rather perish than be forced to the psychopathic horrors I will have to endure if given to Enzo.
At my unacceptance, my father has become wary of me. Taking extra precautions as he knows I am unpredictable, like a wild animal backed into a corner, he worries what I may do out of desperation. He has increased my guard details, ensuring I don’t run away. He threatened to take away my apartment, forcing me to move back into his home if I didn’t give up on fighting him. It has gotten so bad I have begun trying to avoid my father altogether, as much as I can.
I hold off on telling Liliana about my news as I haven’t entirely given up, hoping I will find a way out of this. I don’t want to stress her out with her own wedding looming and struggling to get used to her new life in New York. She doesn’t need to add my stress on top of it all. I busied myself the next few weeks trying to develop a master plan to figure out a way to get to Liliana’s wedding. I need to take my mind off of Enzo and e this may be the last time I get to see her.
I spend most days moping around, unsure what to do with myself as depression starts to take control of me. Unsure how I will manage to get to New York, the days begin to tick down until I only have two weeks left to get something figured out. I’m half contemplating running away and boarding a plane and be damned with the consequences until I am startled by a call from an unknown number.
Upon answering the phone, a smooth, rich voice greets me on the other end. “Miss me yet, darlin’?”
“Daveon?” I pull the phone from my ear, looking at the screen. “How did you get my number, and what do you want?” Curiosity etched in my voice.
“I am quite resourceful when I need to be. I’m calling to figure out a way to get you to New York for Liliana’s wedding. I was going to have Antonio try to pull some strings, but it seems he has up and disappeared now.”
Hope fills my chest where it had begun to hollow. "Eeekkkk!" I screech out in my excitement. “So, what's the plan?”
"Damn, woman. Don't ruin my eardrums." He huffs out, though I blow him off unconcerned.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked again.
After a moment, he blows out a frustrated sigh. “Actually, I was kind of hoping you had an idea.” My hope deflates like an untied balloon.
“Oh well, I don’t know. I have been spending the last month trying to figure something out.”
The line goes silent as he contemplates our options. “How likely is your father to shoot me upon seeing me?”
“What?” I ask, startled at his question.
“I said, how likely is your father to shoot me if he sees me?” He slows down his speech like I am hard of hearing or need help understanding.
“Oh, shut up,” I grumble. “I heard what you said, asshole. What I meant was why?”
“Because I may have an idea.”
“Okayyyy? Well, I don’t know. It just depends.” I bite my lip, feeling nervous at whatever he has planned.
“And how good are you at begging?”
“I don’t know. It’s never been a strong suit of mine. Why?” I ask, unsure where he is going with this plan of his.
“Because you might need to be a little more convincing and less of a cunning spitfire to make this work.” He pauses, thinking. “I will be coming to L.A. in a few days, and we will meet up then and go over what I have planned. Work on your acting skills, darlin’, because your sincerity needs a little work.”
My brows pinch at his criticism. I let out a short breath as I open my mouth to retort back when he silences me. “Nope, don’t even start with me, Gianna. I don’t want to hear any of your sass or smart ass comments. Unless you intended to beg me just now? Want to practice your skills? I’m not opposed to role-playing.”
I choke on a laugh. “I’m sorry, beg you? Yeah, that's not likely ever going to happen.”
“Well, just so you know, the offer is still open on the table, but wait too long to accept it, and you might end up begging me to reconsider.” His voice is thick, making me try to imagine what he is thinking about.
“Sure, whatever you say, Hercules.” I blow him off, acting as if he isn't affecting me when I feel a distinctive ache between my legs.
“I’ll be in touch later on.” He hangs up the phone ending our conversation. I feel a strange tug on my heart, realizing I am a bit saddened by hanging up with him, as I feel alone once again. I draw in a deep breath, trying to figure out this pull I have to him. Something about him draws me to him. He awakens something inside me.
I huff out, frustrated at my desire for him because I know he isn’t a possibility for my future. My future is dark and full of anguish and pain. There is no place for silly sparks of hope and joy when I know I can never
