He leans toward his window. “See the lights up there?” he asks.
I lean toward him to look up. “Yes.”
“There’s a little-known restaurant, well, little known to tourists. They don’t venture up this far and certainly not on foot. It’s local food at its best. Simple and delicious. And one of the few places I can relax.”
That last part strikes me and when I shift my gaze to his, I realize how close I’m leaning.
I clear my throat and inch farther.
“And you get a beautiful view of the city from up there.”
It takes another ten minutes of driving on a single lane, unpaved road that snakes in tight curves. I think I could get carsick here but before that happens, we arrive and I’m climbing out into the fresh night air which is cooler than I expect up here.
“I should have brought a sweater,” I say absently, hugging my arms to myself.
Stefan takes off his jacket. “Here.” He puts it around my shoulders before I can protest and it’s warm and I smell him on it, and I find I don’t want to protest.
“Thank you.”
He nods as we step up onto a platform where colored lights are strung. I can see more of them around the back. The steady sound of quiet conversation flows from the back and I guess seating is outside if I look at the size of the building.
The glass door opens from the inside and an older man comes out with a big smile on his face, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Stefan!” he exclaims, hugging Stefan who hugs him back.
They exchange greetings in Italian, and I get the feeling they know each other well.
Stefan turns to me and introduces me as his fiancée.
The man gives me an approving nod but doesn’t shake my offered hand.
When I glance at Stefan, I find him watching.
I drop my hand to my side.
We’re led through the small building and I’m right. All the seating is outside because the inside is a kitchen and the food smells amazing. Our table is at the very back corner and I take the seat the man pulls out for me as Stefan takes the one across from mine.
The man leaves, telling us he’ll bring some drinks and an appetizer.
“Why didn’t he shake my hand?” I ask.
“He showed respect.”
“Respect? I think that was a lack of respect. Is it because I’m a woman?”
“Relax, Gabriela. This is Sicily and Lorenzo is in his eighties.”
Lorenzo returns with a bottle of wine and sets a plate of appetizers on the table between us.
Stefan smiles wide, thanks the man and nods his permission for Lorenzo to pour me some wine.
“Panelle,” Stefan says. “It rivals Millie’s but don’t tell her I said that.”
“Did you just give him permission to pour me a glass of wine?” I ask.
Stefan’s smile fades. “We do things differently here, Gabriela. Don’t get hung up on it. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. He doesn’t shake my hand. He doesn’t ask me if I even want wine. Maybe I wanted something else.”
“He’s being respectful. Enough of this.”
“Respectful to you but disrespectful to me.”
Stefan sips from his glass, leaning back in his seat and studying me.
“No, not that,” he says simply, casually but finally. “You belong to me, Gabriela. He knows that. You need to wrap your brain around it. This is your new life, like it or not, and if you ask me, there isn’t much to dislike. You’ll have everything.”
“Everything I don’t want.”
“Don’t be a child.”
I exhale, shrug off his jacket and push my chair back to stand.
He puts his hand on mine to stop me.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I lie. “If you don’t want me to act like a child then don’t treat me like one. Now I need to use the bathroom and I’m not asking your permission.”
His eyes narrow and one side of his mouth quirks upward. He moves his hand and I stand, but he gestures for one of his men who walks to the door and opens it, waiting for me.
“He’ll show you the way,” Stefan says.
I’m pretty sure I can find the ladies’ room but fine. I drop it and go inside. In the bathroom, I stand at the sink and look at my reflection. I brush my hair away to look at the bruise, remember what happened. Remember what Rafa said about Stefan not letting me out again and I understand that even better now.
I belong to him.
I am a thing that belongs to that man.
It’s not so different from before, is it? Then, I belonged to my father. Now, I belong to Stefan Sabbioni.
“Suck it up, Buttercup,” I say out loud.
Gabe used to say that. He still does sometimes, but now it’s because it rhymes, and he finds it funny. Then it was his way of telling me something wasn’t important enough to fight for. To save my strength for the battles that matter.
I wash my hands, dry them and return to our table.
Stefan stands, pulls my chair out.
I sit and that’s when I notice the box wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it on my still empty plate.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Open it.”
A breeze chills me and I shudder.
Stefan drapes his jacket, which is on the back of my chair, over my shoulders again.
I pull the ribbon from the box and watch the bow unravel. It’s a pretty blue-green ribbon. Sea foam, I think. I pick up the box and rip off the paper and am surprised—shocked, actually—to find a brand-new iPhone inside.
I look up at Stefan.
“If you don’t like the color, we can swap it out,” he says.
I look back at it. It’s rose gold. It could be poop brown and I wouldn’t care.
When I shift my gaze back to his, he’s still watching me.
“Why?” I ask, any more words catching in my throat. I feel strange. Caught off guard. I don’t know what to make of it. How to react.
“Figured it’d be easier to text Alex. Or call your brother. FaceTime and see him rather than using the land line in the library.”
I feel my face heat up. He knew?
I sit back, let his jacket swallow me up. I don’t know what to say. I look down at the box in my lap.
My father wouldn’t allow me to have a phone. He wouldn’t have allowed me to talk to Alex if he knew. He managed my visits to Gabe. He controlled every aspect of my life. Every single thing, no matter how inconsequential.
And I want to cry.
It’s probably the stupidest reaction, but I feel my eyes filling up.
I’m grateful when Lorenzo returns with menus and I can turn away. I use the heel of my hand to wipe a tear from my eye and force myself to sit up. To not be a fucking baby. It’s probably bugged for all I know.
But it’s a phone.
I turn to Stefan who is pretending to read the menu. Giving me space. Maybe not wanting to embarrass me.
I’ve embarrassed myself enough with him, haven’t I?
“Thank you,” I say simply.
“You’re welcome.” He holds his hand out and I hand him the box. He opens it, takes it out. “It’s already set up. This is your number. Mine is programmed here. This is the house, and this is Rafa. This one is if you ever need someone and can’t get hold of us. It calls the guard house. Do you know how to use it?”