Page 13 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
“The Bianchi family wants you. Is that what you’d like? To be married off to Enrique Bianchi?”
“They can’t just marry me off against my will, Gabi.”
She sighs. “Lina, you don’t fully understand the intricacies of the mafia. Daddy made an agreement, a vow. No one will oppose them upholding that covenant. We will be cast out, dishonored. We’ll lose everything. The only thing we can do to keep you safe is to keep you away. As far as they know, you ran, and I can’t find you.”
“I didn’t ask to be in this situation,” I whisper. “How could Daddy sell me off like that?”
“I don’t think he ever intended to go through with it, not against your will. Look, I made a promise to you a long time ago. I said I would always protect you, and I always will. Please trust me.”
Tears prick my eyes before spilling over, although I manage to keep my sister from hearing my turmoil.
“Please don’t do anything stupid. Promise?”
“I promise,” I whisper because there’s nothing else I can do. I’m essentially a fugitive. Forced to run and hide from a commitment I didn’t make.
“Thank you.” The relief in her voice is clear. “I will fix this, Lina. Just…be patient, and listen to Nero.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you, and remember, I’ll always protect you.”
The line cuts off, and I find myself sitting there, staring at the phone in my hand. I’ll always protect you. The words stir that buried memory to life.
Daddy and his friend left the office. My butt had gone to sleep and I wanted to get out of the cupboard.
Gabi suddenly threw her arms around me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. “It’s okay, Lina. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she vowed.
I didn’t understand. I couldn’t work out why Gabi would say that. That’s what Daddy’s were for. They kept away the monsters and rescued the princesses. Daddy always said that we never had to be scared, that he’d always keep us safe.
I hugged Gabi back and patted her hair because she seemed sad.
“I’ll always protect you,” she said. “I promise.”
She knew. She remembered. My sister may have vowed to protect me, but she never told me about the agreement my father made.
5
Adelina
Climbing to my feet, I go in search of Sasha. I find him in the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a bowl of granola in front of him. His hair is damp from a shower, and he’s now wearing a shirt. I set the phone on the bar, sliding it across the marble until it bumps his hand. Picking it up, he removes the SIM card from the back, snaps it in half, and then reassembles the phone. He goes right back to his granola, spooning a mouthful past his lips as if nothing had happened.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but Sasha offers me nothing more than a blank stare. “For saying for you’re just hired muscle.”
His head tilts, his expression perplexed. “I’m a soldier.”
I don’t know if he’s correcting me, informing me, or agreeing with me. “Okay— Just, thank you. For letting me call Gabi.”
He nods in acknowledgment, and truthfully, from him, that feels like a breakthrough. He resumes staring straight ahead, eating his food.
“Can I use the gym?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I walk away, taking small victories where I can find them.
The thought of using the gym is far more exciting than it should be, but sitting in this apartment with nothing to do but sulk is not helping my emotional state. I’m just recycling the same thoughts over and over until I’m bitter and lonely.
I change into a pair of leggings and a tank top before slipping on my sneakers and grabbing my iPod. I instantly long for the outside. I’d love to run around Central Park like I’ve seen in the movies. Even in this enormous penthouse, I’m getting cabin fever. The walls create an oppressive box, a space that threatens to close in around me. Once in the gym, I pop my iPod on the sound dock and blast heavy rock through the speakers. The beat instantly drowns out those never-ending thoughts. I should warm up, but instead, I get on the treadmill and crank up the speed until I’m at a sprint. It feels good, the pounding of my feet on the belt, the thrumming of my heart over strained breaths. I jog every morning in Cambridge; the campus is beautiful, and I love running through the grounds.
I up the speed and push myself harder. My mind empties as my body is pushed to the limit. Sweat coats my skin, sticking hair to the back of my neck. My lungs burn, and my legs go numb. I run until I’m sure I’ll fall at any minute, and then, I slam my hand over the stop button, jumping onto the side rails. My loud breaths and pounding heart drown out the sound of the music. Salty sweat stings my eyes, and my hands tremble. When I can breathe, I step off the treadmill and pick up one of the hand towels from the shelf. I mop sweat from my face and neck as I make my way to the kitchen in search of water.
