Larissa
Epilogue
Naples is beautiful at this time of year.
Actually, it probably is all year round, but Daddy and I spend our winters tucked up safe and warm in his mansion on his private island out in the sea. Well, I should say it’s our mansion. And our island. He always tells me that what’s his is mine, and always will be.
We married a month after we met, because Daddy said he couldn’t wait any longer, and if I was going to go to college, then having a ring on my finger was the only way he’d let me out of his sight while I was in class.
Well, it didn’t work because he insisted on escorting me to every single college lecture, and growled at every boy who looked at me in a way he didn’t like.
When I was kidnapped and dragged away from everything I knew, which was the best thing that ever happened to me, by the way, it was because I refused to kiss a man and promise I would marry him.
I wanted to go to art college. Hoover arranged for me to be kidnapped rather than allow me that one thing for myself.
But Daddy isn’t Hoover.
He knew I wanted to draw and paint, and maybe make sculptures, because he listens when I talk. It was all I’d ever dreamed about at home, ever since they took away my yellow crayon when I was six years old.
So art it was, and it turns out I have a pretty neat talent for it. The kind of talent that sells.
“Maybe I’ll just get this one,” I say, pursing my lips as I look at the easel. It’s the last thing on my list for creating my own painting space at home.
Daddy shakes his head. “No. If it’s not perfect, you’re not having it. Come on.”
He starts walking toward the exit, and I hurry to catch up with him.
“Stop. I don’t want to drag you around any more stores—” As he turns, I quieten instantly. “Excuse me, Daddy,” I mutter, trying not to glance at the store staff who are staring our way.
“Good girl, but that’s not the issue here.” Sebastian doesn’t seem in the least bothered about the gazes. He treats me the same here as he would at home. “What’s important to me, Finch?”
The blush rises onto my cheeks as I lick my lips. “Me.”
“That’s right. And if you’re not happy with this easel, then we’ll go somewhere else. We’ll go everywhere in Naples, and if we don’t find what you want, I’ll commission someone to make one to your exact specifications. Because making you happy makes me happy, and this is your treat for graduating.”
I start to grin. “Can I still get a punishment for not saying excuse me?”
“Doesn’t sound like it would be much of a punishment.”
“You could be creative.”
He draws a breath and turns away, but I think I catch a slight nod of his head, and a tingle runs through my body. Anticipation is starting to build as I follow him out into the street.
People here keep out of Sebastian’s way.
They treat him like royalty. The locals, I mean.
Not the holidaymakers, who have no idea who he is, but even they seem to sense the power he holds and keep a respectful distance.
I’ve only seen that power on full display once, when Mom and Hoover came for a visit last Christmas.
First, they turned up with Robert, my stepbrother, and that was a big mistake. Daddy remembered about him pushing me into the punch bowl. And about him making comments about my weight.
Well, let’s just say my stepbrother has two fewer teeth than he used to, and I don’t think he would have been jerking off with his right hand for a while.
Daddy made him see the error of his ways, then sent him back off in the chopper with the knowledge that if he ever returned, he’d be leaving in a wooden box.
That didn’t go over too well with Hoover.
Not only had it taken him and Mom years to get past what Daddy told them about my real father’s disappearance, but the insult of having his son humiliated like that meant that he started making some serious threats.
And Daddy called his bluff. Put a revolver on the ground between them and said if his little brother was man enough, he’d make a move for it. But he’d better not miss.
The revolver stayed where it was, because without his men around him, Hoover’s nothing. He’s a coward, and I think Mom started to see that.
Not that she’s left him. She wouldn’t. But I’ve heard things aren’t so rosy in that garden.
But that’s her problem, not mine. That’s something I’ve learned since I came here. It was hard to come to terms that my mother is imperfect and will likely never change. But Sebastian helped me to understand, family doesn’t mean we suffer for their deficiencies.
He’s my family now. Stern, of course, but I’ve grown more, never felt more secure and proud of myself, because of what I’ve achieved under his structure and love.
“That one?” he asks as we stop at the window display of another art store.
I pull my lips to one side. “Let’s see what else they have inside?”
He nods. “Good girl.”