Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Claire starts to fuss, reminding me it’s time to feed her.
I stare after Saverio as he hobbles down the hallway. He’s the same man, and he’s not. How can he be after what he went through? From up close, he looks more different than familiar. It’s not only the eyepatch and the map of angry, red scars that cuts from his eyebrow to his cheek. He seems more rugged, more dangerous. More volatile.
They removed the earring when he went into surgery, and I’m glad he’s wearing it again. It reminds me of the man I used to know, the man who took what he wanted without making excuses.
“I’ll go check on the food,” Livy says in a gentle tone.
I blow out a quiet sigh before turning to Dante. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We made enough food for a small army.”
Saverio’s steps fall quiet. I look over my shoulder. He’s frozen in place, his back stiff, but it only lasts for a second before he continues on his way and turns into his study.
“I’m going to hit the road,” Dante says, rubbing his nape. “Call me if you need me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a lowered voice. “It’s been tough on him.”
“I know.” Dante brushes a knuckle over Claire’s cheek. “Not just for him. Get some sleep, will you? You’re spending too many hours at the club.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He glances at the empty hallway before nodding. “I’ll be there early.”
I check that the guards are in place before I lock the door, and then I go upstairs to feed Claire and change her diaper. Once I’ve rocked her to sleep, I carefully lay her down in her crib. I make sure the baby monitor is on before going downstairs with the receiver in my hand.
Chill-out music comes from the kitchen. Livy hums along softly. I stop in front of the study and take a deep breath before opening the door.
Saverio sits behind his desk with his laptop open in front of him and a scowl on his face. He removed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. He doesn’t look up when I enter and close the door.
I go over to his desk and stop on the other side. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Not sparing me a glance, he opens the top drawer and takes out something that he throws on the desk. Two red booklets with a white cross printed on the front slide toward me.
I shoot him a quizzical look, but he continues to stare at his screen while ignoring me.
A nasty suspicion grows in the pit of my stomach, making me feel sick. I put the monitor on the desk, pick up the first passport, and open it. My photo is inside but under a different name.
I snatch up the second one. It’s for Claire.
“Where did this come from?” I ask, my voice coming out squeaky.
“From my jacket pocket,” he says with a humorless smile.
“Don’t treat me like an idiot.” I will my temper down. “You know what I mean.”
His smile turns patronizing. “Someone delivered them to the hospital.”
Waving the passports in his face, I ask, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Protection,” he says, moving his finger over the mouse.
I slam a palm on the back of his laptop, shutting it.
He slowly lifts his face, finally meeting my eyes. The calculated anger in his expression should give me pause. The dangerous warning that gleams in the blue depth of his uncovered eye should convince me to back off, but I’m too angry and too damn tired to care.
“If you think you can ship me off to God only knows where, Saverio De Luca, you’ve got another think coming.”
His tone is emotionless. “Switzerland.”
I gape at him. “Why?”
“I can’t protect you here, not when I’m about to declare war on Morelli.”
“For how long?” I ask, my question breathless.
He watches me for a beat before saying, “For as long as you like.”
The answer hits me like a brick on the head. “Am I to understand you’re no longer keeping me hostage here?”
He doesn’t reply.
Something twists inside me when I should be elated.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask as pain worms itself beneath my breastbone and spreads through my chest with a dull ache.
Shrugging, he says, “You can go wherever you like. If Switzerland doesn’t appeal to you, choose any other place.” He adds without as much as blinking, “As long as it’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.”
I dump the passports on his laptop. “Does forever work for you? Or is that what you’re hoping for?”
The line of his jaw hardens. He curls his fingers in a fist where his hand lies on the desktop.
“What happened to wanting to be a father?” I ask. “Isn’t that why you married me?”