Chapter 15

Emiliano let me lead him out of the office. Out in the corridor, I saw directly in front of us the dining room. Emiliano walked like a zombie as I dragged him across the foyer. We got to the table and I sat Emiliano at the head and I went to take a seat at the other end. Emiliano looked up angry and asked,

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

I needed to set the boundaries now. I shifted my head a few degrees and with a blank stare I said,

“I told you Emiliano, I take marriages seriously.”

Emiliano pounded his fist on the table and I held my composure, clenching my teeth and holding my head a little higher as he stared me down. Emiliano was off his feet, and I knew where this was going. Before I could blink, I was up off my chair, against the wall with his hand around my neck.

Emiliano was breathing heavily and his black eyes burned into mine. He held me tightly as I watched the anger on his face turn to rage and he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me up the wide royal staircase in the middle of the foyer. At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with scattered doors on each side. I could hear the hurricane rolling in and the waves whipping around as Emiliano towed me down the long hallway into the last room on the left.

The room was huge and painted navy blue, a big gold bed up against the wall to the left. The furniture was very modern and minimalistic. Emiliano pulled me up to the bed and pushed me onto it and I felt like I was drowning. He kneeled on top of me and grabbed the top of my pants and started pulling them down and my heart quickened. I tried not to sound nervous when I yelled at him,

“Emiliano, stop it! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Emiliano didn’t stop pulling down my pants no matter how much I pushed and wiggled my body around, trying to make his task more difficult. He had gotten my pants down to my knees when my protest finally frustrated him. Emiliano grabbed both of my arms and pinned them down by my head and smiled, eyes black, when he said,

“You’re mine now, Hera.”

I clenched my teeth. The waves inside me turned to boiling hot magma and I said sternly,

“You had your chance, Emiliano.”

Now I could feel the fire in my own eyes,

“Let me go!”

Emiliano let my arms go but only to begin pulling my shirt up. I used my free hands to my advantage. With my left hand I reached behind Emiliano and pulled the Beretta 92X full sized pistol out of the holster in the back of his pants and pointed it at his face. When Emiliano saw the gun he immediately stopped trying to remove my clothes but kept his smile and his position on top of me and said,

“Baby girl, you don’t know what you’re doing with that.”

I tilted my head and released the safety and pulled back the hammer. Emiliano clenched his teeth and peered out at me through squinted eyes and growled,

“You wouldn’t.”

I matched his expression and was about to shoot above his head when Mario’s voice made us both jump,

“Mi scusi, Don Emiliano, una questione richiede la tua attenzione.”

*“Excuse me, Don Emiliano, a matter requires your attention.”*

Emiliano continued to kneel on me and stare into the gun when he snarled at Mario,

“Che cos'è?!”

*“What is it?!”*

“Un indizio su Anka.”

*“A lead on Anka.”*

Emiliano rose up off the bed and left the room. I sat the gun down next to me and quickly pulled my pants back up and my shirt down and sat up. Mario was approaching the bed when he said,

“I’m so sorry, Hera. I know Emiliano would never hurt you.”

I looked at Mario with fire in my eyes and said,

“If he ever pulls that shit again, Mario, I won’t hesitate to fuckin kill him, hear me?”

Mario looked down and nodded his head. I continued my glare and asked sharply

“Where are my bags?”

Mario took a deep breath and replied,

“They put your bags in the third room down the hall, to the left.”

I grabbed the gun, got off the bed, and shoved past Mario on my way out.

I opened the door to the room Mario directed me to. A four post bed, with my bags on it, to the right, and two doors in the wall to the left. I walked over to the bed, set the gun down and got into my purse to pull out my phone. I unlocked it and immediately dialed Ambrosio.

“Íra, xérete pós na chrisimopoiísete éna tiléfono?”

*“Hera, you know how to use the phone?”*

I wasn’t in the mood for his banter,

“Ambrosio, íxeres óti oi Ispanoí píran ti gynaíka tou Don Emiliano?”

*“Ambrosio, did you know the Spaniards took Don Emiliano’s wife?”*

Ambrosio was quiet for a second before replying,

“Giatí sas endiaférei aftó?”

*“Why do you care?”*

I don’t, but if Emiliano has her back he will leave me alone. I didn’t answer Ambrosio’s question when I yelled,

“Pes tous na dósoun ti gynaíka píso ston ántra tis, tóra!”

*“Tell them to give her back, now!”*

Ambrosio laughed and said,

“Tha epistrépsei sýntoma me ton sýzygó tis, Íra. Epeidí anisycheíte tóso, Tha káno ta prágmata efkolótera gia to katoikídio zóo sas.”

*“She will be back with her husband soon, Hera. But since you are so worried, I will make things easier for your pet.”*

The phone beeped and Ambrosio hung up on me. There was no rumbling warning before the waves were thrashing about in the pit of my stomach, filling up to my throat. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream. I took a deep shaky breath and told myself that Ambrosio’s involvement will improve the situation and everything will be ok.

To distract myself I decided to explore the room. The first door I went into was the bathroom; a huge walk-in glass shower, dark blue tiling on the floors and walls, and a concrete countertop crowned with a gold mirror. Through the other door was an empty wardrobe. I stood looking at the barren oversized closet. It brought me some peace; proved I wasn’t brought here to play *Anka*. A small smile came across my face. I went back over to the bed, about to unpack my bag when I heard Emiliano ask,

“Deciding to stay?”