Page 2 of Vows of Silence

Luca:Where did you disappear to?

Isabelle:I was just thinking.

Goddamn. Even knowing that he was watching me all the time, it still took me by surprise every now and then just how much he actually saw.

Luca:Get out of your head, little ember, and plaster a smile on your face. Your mother is on her way upstairs.

Isabelle:Get a hobby or something, Luca.

I put my phone back down without waiting for a reply, and hurried off my bed, walking over to the window at the other end of the vast bedroom.

It put a little bit of space between me and her, which was exactly what I needed lately.

She had never been what you would call a “hands-on” type of parent. She was happy for me to come and go as I pleased, so long as I remained in contact one way or another. A simple text to let her know where I was, sharing my location, or even just a voice note telling her I was safe.

But lately? Lately she was something else. Ever since the engagement, she’d been almost overbearing. My whole family was.

The freedom I had once known, the feeling of being invisible… it had all been snatched away.

And it wasn’t just my family, either. There was also Luca, who felt entitled to every damn part of me. But there was something else. Something that felt far more sinister. As though it wasn’t watching out for my safety. It was watching for an opening.

My mother floated into the bedroom less than a minute later, her sing-song voice ringing out my name as she entered without knocking.

Another thing that had never happened before the engagement,I thought to myself bitterly.

“Isabelle!” she scolded when she finally noticed me. Though she was born in Britain, she had taken to pronouncing my name with a Z—Eezabelle. My father was Italian, and she thought trying to mimic his accent made her sound more sophisticated.

She had visited Italy precisely two times, and both of those occasions she had spent shopping, not soaking up the phenomenal culture and history bleeding into every inch of the country.

Not so sophisticated after all.

But we weren’t supposed to mention that.

“Hi, Mum. What’s up?” I asked when she repeated my name, not rising to her tone of voice.

“Why are you hiding in your bedroom?” she demanded, ushering in the staff behind her.

I watched as woman after woman poured into my room. Some carrying fabrics, others underskirts and tulle, and others laden with makeup, creams, hair products, and enough bath salts to alter my pH balance permanently.

“I’m not hiding, I promise,” I said softly, not wanting to be drawn into another argument with her. “You were busy when I came home. Frank took me to Dad’s office to check in, but he was on a business call, so I came up here until I was needed.”

Frank was my head guard. Wherever I was, Frank wasn’t too far behind. And lately, whenever I returned home, he had taken to depositing me in front of my dad, as though I needed inspecting at every second to ensure no damage had come to me.

Why the daughter of a real estate manager needed guards was anyone’s guess, but that’s the world I lived in.

And I can’t say I was complaining—at least not lately. I looked out of my window, shivering slightly as the familiar feeling of being watched crept over my skin.

It had been happening more and more lately. Which was weird, considering Luca had been watching my every move for almost three years now. But Luca had never felt sinister. And what was out there, what I felt now… it felt dangerous. It didn’t warm me the way Luca’s observations did. It chilled me to my bones.

I pushed past the feeling, grounding myself in reality by following my anxiety techniques.

Five things I could see—the gardeners working on the maze, trimming the tall walls until they were neat and orderly. The guards standing watch at the door, or walking the grounds,laughing and joking with one another. The dogs running free in the courtyard. The maids hanging out the washing. And the cars coming down the long path, no doubt filled with yet more businessmen waiting for a meeting with my father.

Our estate was a thing of beauty and the source of all my childhood happiness. I could see the huge cherry blossom tree from here, and the swing my dad had attached for me and my brother, Marco.

I could just about make out the lake, where my father had taught us both to fish, how to row the boat, and where my mother had taught me all about the flowers and wildlife that were in abundance.

The gardens were where my birthday parties had been hosted, where I’d fallen in love—and back out again—for the first time at age twelve.