Elena
“Sally!” I yelled, hoping the sound of music coming from above the deck would let her hear me, but she hadn’t sprinted here in her usual fashion. I knew it was pointless to keep calling out to her. Sally was the personal assistant my father had employed to practically follow me around since I returned from what he called my foolish decision to run off.
I had come up with a story to explain my disappearance a few weeks before my wedding with Rogerio, but I knew that even if everyone else believed my tale of woe, he didn’t buy it. He had questions about the inability of his private investigators to find my location. Still, my mother had warned him to stop questioning me, stating that I had just gone through a traumatic experience and didn’t need to be interrogated.
I knew getting my
