Page 33 of Punishing His Runaway Bride

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"Ezio?"

He looked up and glanced at me.

Cold eyes, like a stranger.

Then he looked away, kept walking, and passed me without a word.

I stood there, watching his back vanish down the hall.

Chest ached sharp.

I didn't know what I'd expected—a hello, a smile, even just a look.

But nothing.

Back in the room, I set the broccoli on the table, sat on the bed, and stared out the window.

Sky dark. Garden lights on, stretching tree shadows long.

Hand on my belly.

"We're okay," I whispered. "I promise."

But even I didn't know how much that promise weighed.

Weather was nice today, a rare sunny day.

I'd been cooped up in the room for days, going stir-crazy. Needed fresh air, so I snuck out, found a swing deep in the garden, and sat down.

Sun warm on my skin. I closed my eyes and finally relaxed.

Nearby, a gardener trimmed branches. He glanced at me now and then, but said nothing.

Phone rang.

Ella.

I answered, voice as light as I could. "Hey?"

"Olivia!" Her voice exploded through. "Where the fuck are you? Sophie said a car picked you up, took you where? Marriage? What guy? Spill—"

"Ella, Ella, Ella," I laughed, cutting her off. "Slow down, I hear you."

"Then talk!"

I breathed deep, eyed distant clouds.

"I got married," I said. "To a rich guy. Living in his huge manor now, garden, pool, people cooking and cleaning. Can you believe it, Ella? It's paradise."

Silence on the line, two seconds.

"You're lying." Ella said.

"No."

"You're fucking lying." She repeated. "Your voice screams it. Olivia, listen, whatever's up, tell me—"

"Really fine." I cut in, softening. "Really. He's loaded, treats meokay. Big house, no work, no debt. Sophie's school covered. Isn't that great?"

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