Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. I’m sorrier. A liar. I lied to you the other day.” I cleared my throat and stared her deep in the eye. Owning the crap I offered. “Didn’t want to sound silly. Tre anni …” I replied three years again in Italian, with a humorless bark of a laugh.
“I’m so sorry, Enzo.”
“Rain had a favorite cafeteria meal.” Now come eat with me. It’s how Italians open up, from what I’ve learned. And I wanted to open her up. In more ways than one.
“I …” Natasha glanced away.
“She always got the cheeseburger.” Better be on the menu. I laughed again, softening the depression and deepening the false emotion. This was a dance after all, until I numbed her inhibitions. “Not so good. Rain loved it.”
“No, it’s not good at all.” Natasha chuckled softly. Oh, so beautiful when she laughed. A twinge of guilt rushed through me. Not enough to save Lachlan MacKenzie.
Or her father.
Or … her. “Tash, can you tolerate the cardboard bread or the cheese? The cheese seems real. Mostly.”
She laughed again. “You’re probably right. I ate here once. The first … night.” Her hand ran over her forearm. Vulnerable. Good.
I took her fingers in mine. She pulled away. “Please, Natasha. Have lunch with me for Rain.” I bit my eyes shut for a fraction of a second. “Last week, after I lied”—my thumb rubbed circles on the pulse at her wrist— “I did sign up to volunteer. You’re to thank for that. I just did my first four-hour shift. Free labor is no joke.”
“Okay.”
“Grazie. You won’t regret this.” Not at first.
The cafeteria buzzed with fluorescent lights and chatter. The smell of burned coffee and overcooked pasta clung to the sterile air as I pulled out a metal chair.
“Such a gentleman.” Natasha tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes soft. “Let’s see if these cheeseburgers were worth it.”
I laughed, moving the seat from the opposite side of the two-seater table, and placed it adjacent to her. She smirked. In response, I winked and embraced Italian charm. “This will make lunch worth it, sí?”
Her eyes rolled, but a spark tightened my throat. So like Mama … when she didn’t pine over Papa.
“You okay, Enzo? Missing Rain?”
I wanted to keep my past buried. The real Rain didn’t matter. Killing her off in a story? Who gave a damn? But Natasha’s demeanor made me feel as if she wanted to carry this weight that no one else had. Just me.
“My mama,” I admitted. “I only had her a few years. I was eight when she passed. Sometimes I wonder if I remember her face right. Natasha, you just gave me a glimpse of her. Your smile. And no one calls me a gentleman.”
“You are … when you want to be.” She chuckled softly, then her hand brushed mine, light, tentative. It anchored me. “I’m sorry. Losing a parent so young? It’s unfathomable. That must’ve been unbearable.”
I swallowed hard. “I lost my father even earlier.” My eyes pinned Natasha’s, dragging her into an undertow of what I carried. Anger, sadness, depression, darker wrath. But I softened the look, my voice cracked in the right places. “Mama died young. So, I grew up chasing shadows. Piecing together a family I never had.”
Her eyes shimmered, not with pity.
With something deeper. Compassion. Real, raw. Not the kind of person who faked to move past a story they didn’t want to hear. She cared. For me.
“That’s why, Natasha … that’s why I come here to visit the only family I have real memories of. Even if Rain died too soon.” I heaved a sarcastic laugh. “My efforts seem maddening, I’m sure, but the hospital is proof I can take back what’s stolen. Proof I’m not powerless because my identity was stripped bare.”
I paused a beat. I’d fed Rain this same line, and she’d twisted it into a shared moment.
We are not powerless.
Always pulling me into her orbit, always making herself part of my pain.
Natasha didn’t do that. She squeezed my hand. Her touch warm and grounded, a gentleness I hadn’t felt since, damn, forever. “You’re not powerless, Enzo. You’ve kept Rain’s memory alive. Moreover, you’re still here. Surviving. And you’re not alone anymore.”
My chest ached. She made me the focal point. Me. Not her. Not the system. Not the endless carousel of cruel foster parents who loved the paycheck and tolerated me. Or worse. Hated me. Natasha spoke like I mattered. Her words dug under my skin, soothing the raw edges. She got me.
I sat back, pulse steady, a new plan sliding into place. The original mission? Simple. Take Natasha the moment I had the chance. Claim her.
But no—she was different. She deserved more than force. She deserved to choose me. To fall in love with me, to prove that after everything, my heart could still be wanted. Lachlan’s money, his fame, his smug arrogance—that wouldn’t matter once Natasha was mine.