Stefanos, for all his control, had at least the decency to get her some clothes while holding her in his home against her will.
Diana picked up what she could from the pile of clothes. A pair of sweatpants, and a white shirt clearly part of a suit. Now wasn't the time to be picky. Her father had already come.
Buttoning the shirt, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
It was seven p.m dot—time to leave.
She approached the balcony, glanced over to the ground far beneath. Her makeshift rope of knotted bedsheets dangled below, swaying slightly in the evening breeze.
A few deep breaths steadied her nerves before she climbed over the railing and began to descend. Her hands clung tightly to the sheet rope, heart pounding at every inch downward. At one point, her fingers slipped, eliciting a startled yelp she immediately swallowed.
Holy crap.
If Stefanos even sensed she was slipping away, she didn't want to imagine what he'd do.
