Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Sofia steps out of the car, pale and hollow-eyed.
“I’m okay,” she says before anyone asks.
Dr. Greco looks at her stomach, then her face. “I’ll decide that.”
Sofia lets out a broken little laugh.
I carry Marco inside and we make our way up to the penthouse. One of the guards helps me get him to a guestroom, and Sofia urges Dr. Greco to check him first. She doesn’t argue, which is exactly why I’ve trusted her for so many years. Thank God Sofia just happened to stumble onto her for her obstetrics needs.
29
SOFIA
I’m sitting next to my father’s bed when he wakes up. He looks around, sees me, and seems to remember everything at once. He immediately tries to get up. It would be more annoying if he could actually stand without nearly passing out. Thankfully, he’s not getting anywhere fast.
“Absolutely not,” I say, gently pushing him back into the bed.
Dad glares at me through one swollen eye. The other looks slightly less awful today, at least.
“I’m not staying here,” he mutters. “You can’t make me.”
“I don’t have to,” I say, frustrated. “You’re not strong enough to move.”
“I can move,” he grumbles petulantly.
He looks toward the doorway like he might make a run for it, then winces and sinks back against the pillows. His room is almost as nice as mine, with great views of the city and high-thread-count sheets. There are much worse places to recover, not that he’d ever admit it.
He’s been here two days already, but today was the first day he had enough strength to open his eyes.
Dr. Greco has been here twice for him and twice for me. Apparently, stress, kidnapping, and violent rescue missions are not ideal prenatal care.
Thankfully, the baby is fine. I’m also fine, physically. Dad, on the other hand, has two cracked ribs and a concussion.
He shifts on the bed and grimaces. I move toward him before I can stop myself, adjusting the pillow behind his shoulder.
“I’ve got it,” he grumbles.
“You do not.”
“Sofia.”
“Papa.”
Dad looks down at his hands, which are mottled with bruises and wrapped where the restraints tore skin.
“I’m sorry, Sofia,” he finally says, surprising me. “I said things I shouldn’t have said.”
“You said I was dead to you.”
His jaw tightens. “I know.”
“I needed you,” I say. “I know you were scared. I know you hate all of this. I hate a lot of it too. But I needed my dad, and you made loving you feel like another ultimatum.”
He swallows, and his eyes go glassy. I hate that. I hate it because it makes me want to forgive him too quickly, and he doesn’t get a free pass just because he’s hurt.
“I just wanted to keep you safe,” he says.
That makes me laugh once, tired and sad. “And look where it got us.”
“I know.” He looks toward the window, at the city beyond it. “Your mother used to tell me my pride was going to get me killed.”
“She knew you better than anyone.”
“She was my everything,” he says with a sigh.
“I’m still mad at you,” I whisper.
“I know, carina.”
“I’m probably going to be mad for a while. But I still love you.”
His hand comes up to my hair, rough and careful. “I still love you, too. More than I knew how to handle.”
We stay like that until my neck hurts and his breathing gets rough. Then I pull back, wiping my face with the heel of my hand.
“Also, you’re not leaving until Dr. Greco clears you.”
Later that afternoon, Dominic comes to see him. I’m in the sitting room outside Dad’s bedroom with tea I don’t want and a plate of crackers Chiara brought me. She wasn’t lying; she’s been incredibly nurturing since we came home.
Dominic appears at the end of the hall in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, looking tired in a way I’ve never seen on him before. He stops when he sees me.
“How is he?”
“Annoying.”
He chuckles. “I’d like to talk to him,” he says. “Do you want to be there?”
Part of me does. A big part. The nosy, anxious, deeply invested part. But they need to do this alone. I think it’ll help Dad act more rationally.
“No,” I say. “I’ll be right here.”
Dominic nods once, then goes into the room and shuts the door behind him. I immediately regret my maturity.
The door is too thick to listen through. I sit on the couch and stare at my untouched tea. The only thing that gives me any comfort is knowing Dad’s too weak to punch Dominic, and Dominic wouldn’t hit an injured man.
I think.
After ten minutes, the door opens. Dominic steps out looking perplexed. He pulls the door halfway shut and looks at me.
“Well?”
“He thanked me,” he says.
I blink. “My father?”
“Yes.”
“Did you record it?”
His mouth twitches. “No.”
“Such a shame.”
“He also said he may never trust me completely.”