I’m sent to my room to await my husband’s summons. At least Rafa carried my wedding gift upstairs. It’s heavier than I expected but the birds are sweet.
I recognized the man introduced to me as Rafa’s father as the man Rafa had met with that day in Taormina. I know it from the way he walked. As slimy as he seems to me, I can see he gets under Stefan’s skin and that alone brings a smile to my face. Albeit a bitter one.
Thinking back to a few days ago, hell, even yesterday morning, how are we here now? How do I feel about my husband? I’ve seen the gentle side. The caring side. This one, though, the one from last night, from today, he’s the ruthless one.
I endured the afternoon in that restaurant. I sat beside my husband and sipped my champagne, probably more than I should have, and ate my food, probably too little in proportion to the champagne, and somehow, I survived it. And now we’re back at the Palermo house and I’m waiting for Stefan in my room as I study the gift his uncle gave me.
Stefan didn’t like it and I understand.
The cage—it’s my cage. This house, my prison.
Two birds. He and I. We’re both prisoners in a way, aren’t we? He to his hate. Me to him.
But lovebirds we are not.
The music, that particular scene. Ironic that it’s the same scene that played last night as we battled. As I learned what Stefan would do.
I open the little door and push the button to play the music again. From his question to Stefan I know it wasn’t an accidental choice of music, although not the most fitting gift for a wedding. Well, a true wedding with two people who love each other. Maybe it is fitting for ours.
My phone buzzes with a text message, interrupting my thoughts. It’s on the nightstand charging.
I pick it up. The name of the sender doesn’t register, but I know the number. It’s my father. How did he even get this number? And does he know what’s happened? That Stefan and I are married?
I click into the message which was sent an hour ago but because my phone was out of charge, I only see it now. I read it, thinking how unlike my father to send me a text.
I hear congratulations are in order. For the best, I suppose. I don’t think I could have handed you over to the Sicilian bastard in a proper church. I hope you enjoy my gift. It was quite an extravagance, all that gold, the workmanship.
Know that nothing I do is to harm you. It is all to destroy him and save you. I hope you will enjoy all the surprises of your gilded cage.
Daddy
Daddy.
The word turns my stomach.
Daddy is reserved for fathers who love their daughters. Not for men like my father.
I re-read the message.
I hope you will enjoy all the surprises of your gilded cage.
But Rafa’s father gave me this gift, didn’t he?
I get up, go to it, study it more closely when a knock on my door startles me.
“Yes?”
It’s not Stefan, I know. He wouldn’t have knocked.
The door opens and Rafa is standing out in the hallway. His gaze slides from me to the cage and back but if he knows anything about it, he keeps it hidden from me.
“Congratulations, Gabriela. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that,” he says, coming into my bedroom and closing the door behind him.
“You know it’s not real.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You like the gift?” he asks, eyes steady.
Am I reading into his gaze? Does he know something about it or is he making small talk?
“It’s beautiful but extravagant. Your father doesn’t even know me,” I test.
Rafa smiles and it’s that same smile from the first time when he took me jogging. “He’s trying to get back into Stefan’s good graces.”
Small talk. I don’t need small talk.
“Why was the same man who sideswiped us at that house, Rafa?”
He never shifts his gaze away. “I’m trying to figure that out too,” he says, his forehead creasing. Is it in concern?
“You were angry after your meeting with your father.”
“I was. But I’m often angry after meeting with my father.” He walks around me to the cage. He runs a hand over the golden bars. “It’s nice.” He turns to me. “You should come downstairs and say goodbye. Stefan will expect it.”
Anxiety fills my belly. “He wants me to sign a petition to get guardianship of my brother.”
“Better for your brother, isn’t it?”
“Becoming Stefan’s pawn rather than my father’s? How is that better? It’s just different.”
“It was your father who put him in Clear Meadows to begin with.”
“How do you know that?”
He studies me, then makes a point of checking his watch. “I have to take Clara home. Let me walk you downstairs.”
“I can find my own way.”
He walks to the door and opens it. “I’ll escort you.”
Stefan’s words come back to me. There’s nothing nice about Rafa.
“Just a minute,” I say, “I need to use the bathroom.”
He nods, gestures for me to go ahead. He doesn’t leave the room.
I walk into the bathroom and close the door. Standing in front of the mirror, I run the cold water and splash a handful on my face, then dry it.
What did Stefan say about allies and enemies and that constantly shifting line? Rafa is not my friend. I know that. I’ve known it all along. I guess the real question is how passive or active an enemy is he to me?
I feel like I’m locked in a cage and in each corner is another monster.
“Gabriela,” Rafa asks with a soft knock.
“Coming,” I say, wondering which of the monsters will bury me.