Footsteps Read Free Page B

was true. Everyone knew it, and everyone let him
have his will.
     
    Until she was no longer his will, he would
not release her. And though she was strong, she was not powerful.
She could not fight him and survive, and so she withstood his will
and waited for him to tire of the game. She used her strength for
the waiting.
     
    But tonight, someone had stopped him. A
tall, dark, dashing stranger, looking stiff and uncomfortable in
his tuxedo. James had said his name…Carlo. Carlo Pagano. Of those Paganos? There were a lot of Italians in Rhode Island,
and most of them were just normal people. Sabina had lived in the
States for years, most of her life, but she still felt somewhat
flummoxed by the wide range of cultural identities. Maybe Pagano
was the Italian version of Smith. But somehow, Sabina doubted it.
The simple fact that the man had known who James was and had yet
interfered indicated that he was accustomed to men who were
intimidating.
     
    Interesting. Perhaps that was why James had
stopped. Perhaps a member of one of the largest crime families of
New England had come to her rescue. That was the only kind of power
that would have given her husband pause.
     
    She smiled, then realized too late her
mistake. James’s eerie expression of demonic tenderness—his eyes
avid with malice, his smile sweet and loving—shifted and darkened,
and he tossed the bloody, sodden cotton ball into the
wastebasket.
     
    “You like that? That’s good. I’m in the mood
for some play.”
     
    He wrapped his hand—its palm soft, its nails
manicured—around her arm and yanked her up, then out of the
bathroom and into the bedroom. Her knees protested strenuously, but
she did not limp. When he slid the belt from his pants and shoved
her to kneel at his feet, she didn’t cry out.
     
    She used her strength for the waiting.
     
     
    ~oOo~
     
     
    As always, James was up at dawn. As always,
Sabina waited to sleep until he had left the bed.
     
    As always, she was up by ten o’clock. In the
bathroom, she finally finished tending to her sore knees. Once they
were bandaged, she stood in the middle of her closet,
undecided.
     
    James hated for her to wear her robe outside
of the bedroom. He thought it gauche. Normally, first thing in the
morning, she dressed to work out, then showered after she had
finished whatever workout was on the docket for the day. But she
wasn’t going to yoga today. The thought of kneeling in child’s pose
or attempting any asana whatsoever today made her wince. He
wouldn’t like it if she skipped her workout, though, and today she
wasn’t in the right frame of mind to resist him. After last night,
she needed a quiet day.
     
    Finally, she dressed for yoga. It wasn’t as
if he followed her to the studio. He’d be leaving for the office
soon enough, and he needn’t know she’d skipped. Selecting a
long-sleeved top to cover the new marks on her arms, she combed her
hair out with her fingers and tied it back in a ponytail, then went
down to see what Gloria had done for breakfast. She was relieved
that, though her legs were stiff, she could walk without
limping.
     
     
    ~oOo~
     
     
    Eggs Benedict with kale and tomato. Sabina
kissed her housekeeper on the cheek. “Morning, Gloria.”
     
    “Morning, missus. Tea or coffee this
morning?”
     
    Sabina was quite susceptible to caffeine but
hated decaf. She took coffee when she needed extra energy. This
morning, she needed extra calm. “Tea. Lemon zinger?”
     
    Gloria nodded, and Sabina sat at the table,
hoping that James would not be back from his run until after she’d
eaten.
     
    He had no need for her to eat with him—he
usually worked at the table as he ate—but he had an absolute need
to ensure that she had eaten. Gloria was supposed to keep track for
him, and she did. Sabina didn’t try to make poor Gloria complicit
in any of her small rebellions. She had a family to take care of,
here in Providence and in Ecuador as well.
     
    Though both women