The bedroom door slams shut but I keep lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and return to calculating how much money I need to get myself out of this horror show. Mulling over the details has become a coping mechanism. Whenever Rocco manhandles me, I detach myself from the situation by planning my escape.
My mind unintentionally drifts to the big silent man who’s going to become my ever-present shadow. Will my husband do something to him? Maybe Rocco was too focused on Pietro and didn’t notice as Alessandro touched me at the theater. If he had, there would have been another death tonight. I move my hand to my hip and brush the spot where Alessandro’s hand briefly landed on me.
I’ll have to be very careful around him, at least until I get to know him better. Hopefully, he’s not an
