Seven Minutes in Hell

Luca never came for me. He didn't even check to see if I made it out.

By the time a passing fisherman found me clinging to that plank, I was nearly frozen solid. Luca and his friends had long since left the docks. Not a single check-in call.

It wasn't until late that night that he bothered to call.

The second I answered, he started complaining. "Angelina, where the hell are you?"

I was lying in a hospital bed, shivering under three blankets. I let out a hollow laugh. "I should be asking you that, shouldn't I?"

"I told you to wait by the boat! Then I come back and you’re gone? People are gonna start thinking you’re out messing around behind my back."

The rage flared up in my chest, hot enough to melt the ice in my veins. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me of cheating on you?"

Luca let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I waited for you. When you didn't show, I went looking for you. I was so worried I tripped and messed up my leg. My phone broke, too."

He tripped looking for me? What a crock of sh*t.

I gave him the hospital address. Less than thirty minutes later, he came limping into the room, Fiona and the rest of the crew trailing behind him like a pack of vultures.

When he saw I was actually hooked up to an IV, he turned on the charm. "I'm so sorry, Angelina. This is all my fault. I never should have taken you to the docks."

"Does it still hurt? I’m not leaving your side again. I’m staying right here."

I turned my head away. I couldn't stand his lying face, and I felt sick when he tried to touch me. But he wouldn't let go, hugging me tight as if he were truly devastated.

"You’re hurt too," I said coldly, trying to push him off. "Let go."

"No, my injury is nothing. I only care about you."

He was being so persistent that I figured it was easier to fake a truce. He thought he was back in my good graces and started peeling an apple for me.

While he fed me, he started chatting with Fiona in Sicilian again.

"Good thing I’m a genius. Faking a leg injury to look like the victim... she doesn't suspect a thing. Easiest way to cover up an affair ever."

"Tsk, you think you’re so smart."

"I am. Look at her. She’s already over it."

"Damn, she’s a pathetic romantic. She forgives you way too fast."

"Because she loves me."

I went stiff. Why did he have to lie every single second? For a brief moment, I had almost believed him about the leg. I almost felt bad.

I was wrong. This man wasn't worth the air he breathed.

They kept joking in the dialect about what they did at the pier, their tone light and mocking.

A few days later, after I was discharged, it was time for our engagement party. Luca was decked out in a custom suit, with Fiona hovering right behind him.

Fiona grabbed his hand, looking frantic. "Luca, are you really going through with this? What about me? What am I to you?"

"A side piece."

"But I love you!"

"And I love her family’s money. Once we’re married, I’ll stop seeing you. I want to be a 'good husband' for the cameras."

I watched the live feed from the security cameras on my phone while I packed my bags. I dialed my father. "The plane leaves in two hours. I’m heading out. See you in Miami."

I snapped my suitcase shut and walked out without looking back. But before I left, I decided to give Luca a little parting gift.

At the party, Luca was starting to panic because I wasn't there. He pulled out his phone, but my friend Marco walked up to him, grinning with a glass of champagne in hand.

"Luca! Congrats, man!"

"Thanks. Have you seen Angelina? She’s late."

"Oh, she’s big on loyalty. Don't worry, she’ll be here. She does have one flaw, though—she absolutely despises being stabbed in the back."

Luca gave a forced smile.

Marco tapped his temple. "Oh, I almost forgot. We’re all Sicilian, you know. Angelina, too. Before she got her American citizenship, she was from the same village as you."

"Look, here’s her old driver’s license. See? I’m not lying. In fact... I can tell you all about it in our mother tongue."