Chapter 52

(Emily's POV)

I should be doubting my life intentions, searching for an escape hole, or doing anything remotely constructive. Instead, I sat in the drawing room and looked after the sun sinks below the horizon with the Bible on my lap. The book was in Italian and was therefore unthinkable, but the words didn't matter. It was the divine consent I needed by this point in my life.

The front door shut quietly, but it may as well have been banged, the soft click transmitting an edgy palpitation to the tips of my fingers. It couldn't be any clearer who just came inside if a marching band preceded him. The energy he held up rivaled the insidious screech in horror films as a glinting knife stabbed at its victim.

Dimitri must have had a bad day at work. Or he still has not forgiven me for talking about his daughter in front of him and lecturing his ability as a father and as a forced wife.

Stomach clenching, I picked up the book, opened it to a random page, and feigned to devoutly read. My bac