Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“If you can’t be assured of my safety without me being in the same room as you, then what about Matteo? Is he not safe in his room? Would we be safer in, say, a hotel?” I’m taunting him. Challenging his sense of pride. It’s a dirty tactic, but I’m sick of feeling like the overly emotional one in our conversations. I need a reminder he isn’t a cyborg.
“No one even knows Matteo exists, but they do know I am engaged. That makes you more at risk than him.”
His composure doesn’t waver. The most unfair part about this is how out of character it feels for me. I’m not the person who goes looking for a fight. Never have I purposefully wanted someone to get mad at me. I need something from him. Anything. A reaction that proves I’m not the only one who experiences normal human emotions. He may never love me, but if I can make him feel something, maybe I’ll feel less like a puppet he’s pulling by the strings. Anger is preferable to indifference.
“You can post guards by my door, you can watch me sleep through a camera, but I draw a line at sleeping next to you at night. I’ll be keeping my own bed.”
Shockingly, he lets the conversation drop. I wait for the pushback, for him to insist I follow his will. He doesn’t. Instead, he picks up one of the peanut butter blossom cookies we baked earlier and pops it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off me.
I doubt this will be the last time we have this conversation. Enzo doesn’t strike me as the type who is used to hearing someone say no. If I had told him no, both of our lives would be monumentally different. I still don’t regret it. Matteo is my life. Dealing with his overbearing father just wasn’t something I was expecting I would deal with.
When the last batch of cookies is done, I move into the living room. Matteo is asleep on the couch and Alice is sitting next to him, running her fingers through his hair. I hadn’t realized how late in the day it was getting, still early for him to go to bed. I chuckle. Must be the sugar crash from all the cookies he ate. I scoop him up in my arms, thank Alice for the day, and move towards our room. Enzo follows behind me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to him as he follows me into the room Matteo and I are staying in.
“If you won’t come to our room, I’ll stay in here. Simple as that.”
“I hope you’ll be comfortable on the couch then. No matter what room we are in, I’m still not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
“Stubborn, stubborn girl. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. Be warned, you’re going to want to lose this attitude here soon. I only have so much patience, and you’re already testing it.”
Chapter Nineteen- Emma
I don't think I'll ever get used to having my every move watched. I know our assigned guard is standing outside of the bedroom, listening for any signs that I might try to escape. I should be thankful for the bits of privacy, like the fact that they don't enter our bedroom, but it's hard to be thankful for something that should be a basic right. Besides the guard, I know that there is a camera trained at the spot right outside the window, in case I got the temptation to slip out.
“Mama?” Matteo says while I’m helping him get dressed for the day. Although he’s been up since seven in the morning and we’re entering the afternoon, it’s the first word he has spoken all day. Being quiet is nothing new for him. He’s the one to think before he speaks. Still, the prolonged silence is odd, even for him. I’m wondering what his little mind has been working on.
Enzo left at the first crack of dawn. True to his word, he slept on the couch in the guest room Matteo and I have been staying in. I worried, at first, that it would keep Matteo from being able to sleep, having someone in the room who he wasn’t used to. He’s gotten more comfortable with Enzo than I realized. He asked me why Enzo was staying in our room, and I told him we were having a sleepover, and then he went to bed without a problem.
Now I’m wondering if he had a problem and didn’t tell me.
“Yes?” I say, inviting him to say more.
“I don’t want to go see grandpa. He says mean things about Enzo.”
This stills me. It isn't that I'm dumb enough to believe that my father would keep his opinion to himself. Quite frankly, he could take a few lessons from Matteo in thinking before he speaks. Enzo may be our captor, but to Matteo, he has been nothing but kind. Bad-mouthing the man he's coming to look up to will only damage their relationship in the long run.