“There now, that’s more honest. We both know you don’t have the stomach for murder.” Though it loosened, Edward’s grip on my forearms remained. His thumb traced along the inside of my wrist. Up, down, sending goosebumps across my arm, causing my thighs to vibrate.
“I hate you,” I seethed.
“That doesn’t bother me.”
I wrestled out of his hold and took a step back from him. His eyes perused me, scanning up from my toes to my lips, lingering on the parts of my body that interested him most. He was so fucking arrogant. As if he had a right to look at me that way.
Snatching his discarded shirt, I wrapped it around me. “I wouldn’t get so cocky if I were you. I might not be a murderer right now, but three months on this island is a long time. A lot could change.”
With that, I left him along with the mess I’d made. If he really wanted it cleaned, he could take care of it himself. He wanted me to submit to him, then fine. But if we weren’t beginning until he returned, I had three months to do whatever the hell I wanted, and I planned to do just that.
I hardly slept. Variations of the dream I’d had during my nap days ago played out throughout the night. Sometimes I was being chased, sometimes I was the one chasing, but it was always me and a man. The anonymous man, who wasn’t quite so anonymous anymore. While I could never see his face, I knew in my gut who it was. Who else would I run after?
Who else would make me run?
I gave up hope for sleep around dawn. Then I just lay there waiting, listening for sounds of Edward stirring in the main part of the house.
I finally heard him around eight. After throwing on a sundress and slipping on a pair of flip-flops, I came out to talk to him. A quick look in the hall mirror showed that I looked as bad as I felt—dark circles under my eyes, my face blotchy. I cringed, but the poor appearance would help.
With my arms wrapped around myself and my head bowed, I found him in the living room giving instructions to Mateo regarding his luggage.
“How sweet,” he said when he saw me. “You came to say goodbye.” With a nod, he ushered Mateo out to the jeep.
“Can I see you to the plane?” I asked, demurely.
“No, but you can see me to the door.”
We walked the distance in silence. I could feel the heat of him at my side, but I wouldn’t let it warm me. I stayed cold. I stayed focused.
“I need something,” I said, turning toward him when we reached the door. “I need some reassurance. When this is all done, you'll let me go? We’ll get a divorce and part with no other baggage between us?”
“Yes.” His voice was gentle. Soothing almost.
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
I searched his eyes while he searched mine, looking for a speck of compassion I could prey on. I was nearly sure I saw it—a flash of something kind behind his cool blue eyes.
I stepped closer to him. “And when you come back, in February, and you begin...your thing,” I couldn’t force myself to use his words for what he planned to do to me, “how long will I be here after that?”
“As long as it takes.”
“I need an expiration. Otherwise I could be here forever.”
“Or you could be dead.”
That word again. It could have been devastating to hear so many times. If I weren’t so fucking pissed.
Knowing this was my last chance, I pulled out all the stops. I laid it on thick. “Please, Edward.” I reached out to curl my fingers in his shirt, linen again. Black this time. Fitting for the demon that he was. “I know I was awful to you, that I’m an awful person. I know I deserve whatever you have planned for me, but you’re better than that. You’re better than me. Please take me with you. I won’t survive three months here. I’ll do what you want. I’ll be the perfect wife, whatever you want, just take me with you.”
The words were staged, but I hadn’t planned the tears. The tears, I was pretty sure, were real.
His hand came up to settle over mine. “Stop, bird,” he said softly. “Stop with the lies.”
He had no heart. He was nothing inside.
How well I knew what that was like.
The tears fell harder, and my grip tightened on his shirt as I grew spiteful. “What's going to stop me from going after you when you let me go? I'll tell everyone what you've done, that you've abducted me and forced me into your sick games. You'll be ruined.”
“You aren't really helping your case here, Celia.”
“There's no way what I'm saying is a revelation. I'm trying to insure that I get out of here alive.” I brought my other fist to meet the one already on his chest, and I wasn’t sure anymore if I wanted to beat him with them or hold him so tightly that he couldn’t possibly leave without dragging me with him.
“You'll get out of here alive. As soon as you're broken down. And when that truly happens, there's no way you'd turn me in to anyone.”
“Oh really.” I tried to drop my hands, but he clasped them both under his, holding them in place. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm. Steady and strong. Calm.
“You seem to not understand what you'll become when you're broken down,” he said, stroking his fingers over my skin. It was a lover’s caress.
He was as good at pretending as I was.
It distracted me, but not enough to not ask the question he was leading me to ask. “What's that?”
He leaned forward, his lips ghosting along my forehead. “Mine.”
Five
As soon as Edward was gone, I began looking for a way to escape.
He’d warned me that his staff was loyal to him, but with eleven adults on the island, there had to be someone who had a conscience. Someone who knew keeping a grown woman captive was wrong. These were good people, too. I’d spent time with them now, and couldn’t believe that there wasn’t one of them that would try to help me.
I chose who I’d approach carefully. Joette was the matriarch, the woman that Edward had initially befriended. Winning her favor would likely be the hardest, no matter how friendly and doting she’d been. It followed that her children would stand by her in most things, which was why I decided to approach one of the spouses.
Sanyjah, Mateo’s wife, was the obvious choice.
Quieter than most of the women, Sanyjah was one of the primary housekeepers and spent a good deal of time around the main house. That meant I saw her more than almost anyone else except Joette and Tom, who did the daily cooking.
I found her later in the morning in Edward’s room, cleaning up the ceramic from the vase I’d broken the night before.
“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” she said when I came in, obviously thinking I wanted use of the room.
“Actually, I came to talk to you.”
She stood up straight, leaning on the broom, her expression mildly surprised. “Do you need something? Did Tom forget to stock your cupboards with toilet paper?”
The staff had never acted like servants around Edward. There could only be a handful of reasons why they’d behave differently with me. Either he’d told them to, which seemed unnecessary, and Edward never did anything unnecessarily. Or I hadn’t given them any reason to act any other way.
The latter was more likely. I’d been nice enough with all of them but not particularly friendly. Obviously, I’d been a shitty guest.
I hoped that didn’t bite me in the ass now. Hopefully, an explanation of my plight would forgive my previous conduct.
“No, nothing like that. Here, let me help.” I bent down to pick up the shards I should have cleaned up the night before. When she protested, I dismissed her. “This was my fault, anyway. Only right that I’m the one to clean it up.”
“You knocked it over?” The suspicion in her voice was reasonable. The vase had been placed across the room.
“I threw it. I was angry.” I tossed the pieces into the garbage bag at Sanyjah’s side then stood again. “I was angry because Edward is keeping me captive here. He won’t let me leav
e. But now he’s gone, and so I’m begging you to help me. Please, help me?”
Sanyjah peered at me curiously, as though she thought I might be testing her. Then she laughed and went back to sweeping the particles that had been left behind. “Sure I’ll help you. I’ll help by cleaning up after you.”
“I know this sounds ridiculous, but I’m telling the truth. He tricked me into coming here, and now he’s left me here.”
“Tricked you? You married him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but.” Of course anything I said about that would make my credibility worse. “I did willingly marry him,” I said, thinking fast. “I didn’t know what kind of a man he was when I did. He hid his true colors, and now I’m his prisoner.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. Maybe I’d picked the wrong spouse after all.
I tried again. “I know there’s a phone somewhere on the island with satellite reception. If you could just get me to it, I can call my father and…”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she said, serious now. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish my work.”
She turned her back toward me, ending the discussion.
My attempts with Marge and Peter went similarly. In desperation, I moved onto Joette’s children, but trying to plea to Mateo and Dreya was just as fruitless. Either I wasn’t taken seriously or I was flatly dismissed. Clearly, they’d been given orders and those orders wouldn’t be ignored.
I considered appealing to everyone all at once at dinner. Maybe with all of them together they’d see reason.
But, while we’d had dinner together nightly when Edward was on the island, that evening I was left only with a premade meal in the fridge from Joette.
The next day I tried something more demure with Tom, asking for use of the phone to call Edward. “We’re newlyweds and all, and I already miss him.”
She winked. “Exactly why he needs some time away from you. Pretty, young wives are distracting. Who’s gonna pay the bills if you don’t let the man work?”
Escaping was going to be harder than I’d thought.
I waited out the week. Though Joette and Tom and Sanyjah came almost daily, the house was quieter than it had been my entire honeymoon. Thanksgiving came and went, uncelebrated by Bahamian natives.
Whatever. It had never been my favorite holiday anyway. All those calories that had to be sweat off with extra workouts. Not that I didn’t have time to exercise. Being stuck on Amelie was the perfect excuse to get in better shape. What else was there to do? It was paradise, but even paradise got boring after a while.
When Edward had been gone a week, I tried another approach, asking Eliana if I could tag along on her trip to Nassau for groceries.
She tilted her head up as if she was considering, and my chest fluttered with hope.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said after a minute. “It’s not safe.”
“Not safe?”
“For a woman in your condition.”
“A woman in my condition?” I was repeating everything she said in horror. What had Edward said about me? “Did he tell you I was pregnant?”
“No!” she said, her eyes wide. “Congratulations!”
“I’m not pregnant,” I said with a frustrated scowl. “I meant, what do you mean about my condition?”
“It’s best we not talk about serious things like that,” she said mysteriously. “And leave grocery shopping to me. You stay here where you’re looked after. Everything will be all right.”
No, everything would not be all right. I was trapped, and no one would give me a straight reason for not wanting to help me.
So I tried to hide on the boat. Actually, I first tried to steal the boat. Sure, I’d never driven one before, but it couldn’t be that hard.
Except it completely was. I found the steering wheel and where to put a key, but the rest of the buttons were meaningless. And, even if I wanted to brave it, I soon learned the keys were locked up in a safe. There was a sailboat as well, but it was chained to the dock and secured with a padlock. That key, I presumed, was also in the safe.
And thus I was forced to try to hide instead. I buried myself under some blankets at the stern of the boat and waited.
Mateo caught me right away.
I tried again the following week. Monday was always grocery day, which meant I didn’t have to cause suspicion by asking when the next boat would go out. I hoped that not mentioning wanting to go with Eliana this time would make it seem like it had left my mind. I got to the dock way before the time she usually left and found a better hiding spot on the cruiser.
Again, Mateo discovered me.
The next week it was Louvens who found me. Which meant I still might have a shot. He was the single man of the bunch and his sneaky stares at me in my bikini and on my daily runs had not gone unnoticed.
“We should take a ride to the mainland together,” I said, sidling up to him. “Just you and me.”
He wasn’t unaffected. The quickness in his breathing gave him away.
“Think how much fun we could have,” I pressed. My voice was sticky sweet, and the way I smoothed my palm down his chest was borderline inappropriate.
He grabbed my wrist before I could get anywhere interesting. “If you keep this up, I’m going to have to limit your access to just the house.”
The island already felt small and claustrophobic. I couldn’t survive confined to the house.
Interpreting my frown, he added, “It’s for your safety.”
For your safety. There was that phrase again.
“What exactly did my husband say to you about me?” I asked, my tone close to pleading.
Lou frowned and looked out over the horizon. “I’m afraid I’m not the one to ask.”
There was no question who was the one to ask. When I got back to the house, I stormed into the kitchen where I could hear Tom and Joette singing together while they peeled potatoes.
“What did he tell you?” I demanded. “What did Edward tell you that convinced you that keeping me a prisoner was a matter of my safety?”
Tom looked to her mother. Joette sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Why don’t you sit down?”
I didn’t want to sit down.
But it was mid-December. Including the time with Edward, I’d been on the island five weeks, and if I had any hope of leaving, I realized I had to change my tactics.
I sat down.
Joette took my hand in hers, and as much as I wanted to find it patronizing, I didn’t. It felt warm and comforting, even as the terrible words crossed her lips.
“Edward confided in us the truth,” she said, tenderly. “About your mental health. About your delusions. Of course he isn’t keeping you captive here, darling. He’s trying to protect you. We all are. What a wonderful husband you have that he devotes such attention to his sick wife, even from afar.”
I snatched my hand away from hers and tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. My word against yours. That’s what I’d said to him. That’s what my plan had been in trapping him with my game. He’d beat me to it. Whatever credibility I might have had with his staff was taken away by him simply telling them that I was crazy.
I’d said it before, but I hadn’t believed it until right then. Hadn’t truly believed it. I was Edward’s prisoner. The only way I’d leave the island was if he chose to let me go.
Six
The gifts began arriving as soon as I stopped trying to leave.
The first was the clothes. I’d already been quite vocal to everyone who would hear it about my limited wardrobe. I’d come to the island expecting to be there for two weeks. Two weeks that I’d planned to do nothing but seduce my husband, which meant I’d brought lots of short dresses and skimpy swimsuits. Though December in the Caribbean was still fairly temperate, the rainy season was in full swing and more than once I’d wished for a pair of yoga pants. And a sweater. And some jeans. A pantsuit.
More than once I’d thought abo
ut the monthly stipend Edward had promised me as his wife. More than once I fantasized spending it. One hundred thousand pounds could go a long way on Fifth Avenue.
In the end, I hadn’t had to spend my money on clothing at all—if I actually had any money. Because when Eliana returned the following week from her grocery run, she’d come back with boxes and boxes of clothes.
“Thank you for finally listening,” I exclaimed as I tore into the first box, noting the designer label on the outside of the package.
“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t me,” she said with a shrug. “This is all thanks to your husband.”
I considered taking a pair of scissors to whatever I found inside, but it was too perfect—a red jersey wrap dress that was just my style. They were all perfect, every item. Every outfit was tailored to me, as though I’d been measured, as though I’d personally selected them.
And there was clothing for a range of occasions, from fancy to casual, all of them designer made. With designer shoes to match.
So he’d found a personal shopper and given her a big check. That wasn’t hard. I was grateful for the clothes, but I wasn’t grateful to him.
Except, then I found the notes, handwritten and tucked inside each item. Simple, brief notes that said things such as Reminds me of the dress you wore to that first dinner at my house on a floral sundress, and A casual Sunday look on a printed jumpsuit, and White, the color that wedding dresses should be on a white pair of linen pants.
He’d had a hand in the selection. Even if he hadn’t done the shopping himself, he’d chosen with thought and then made sure I knew it.
But he was still my captor.
I crumpled all the notes and threw them into my bathroom wastebasket.
Then, after putting away all my clothes, one hundred pieces in all, I pulled the notes back out of the wastebasket and shoved them into the drawer of my nightstand. I wouldn’t read them again; I didn’t care about what they said or what they meant, but neither could I bear to let them go.
The next day Dreya invited me to morning yoga.