I can almost smell the salt in the air as the comforting sun warms my skin.
The day is the complete opposite of my spirit.
“Graziela, wait in the car,” Dante orders. “Cézar, I would like to speak with my daughter alone.”
“I do not have authorization to leave her.”
“You speak as though she were a prisoner,” my father retorts, testing him and receiving nothing more than the man clearing his throat.
“Do not worry. We are not going anywhere. Could we stay in the garden? I noticed there is a beautiful view over there,” he says pleasantly, as though his true face were not despicable.
“You may use the library. It has a good balcony.”
I feel an unbearable desire to destroy both men standing before me as the sensation of being trapped and restricted closes around me.
We go to the room, and
