The soup Rosa gave me is delicious, filled with mushrooms, rice, beans, and chunks of lamb. As we eat, I observe Yulia, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with her now. Keep her naked and tied up in my house forever?
To my shock, the idea holds a certain dark appeal. For the first time, I understand why Esguerra kept his wife, Nora, on his private island for the first fifteen months of their relationship. It’s as secure and isolated as one can get—a perfect place for a woman who may not necessarily want to be there.
If I had an island, I’d keep Yulia there, with nothing but her long blond hair to cover her.
Her spoon clinks against her ceramic bowl—I don’t have paper plates for soup—and I tense, my gaze jumping to her hand. She’s just eating, though, her attention seemingly focused
