CHAPTER 4
“The poor girl is frightened!”
I grunt and drain the last of the whisky in my glass. “She’ll be fine.”
I’m tired. I haven’t slept, just like Lana, though I can handle it better than she does.
Scratch that. I’ve been too pissed off, even at her, simply because I’m tired and she doesn’t want me. I don’t understand why she’s reacting like that.
Mom walks around the sofa and glares at me. I roll my eyes. She’s about to give me one of her unnecessary lectures. I know what I’m doing, I know what I want to accomplish, and I know what Lana needs: time and trust.
I hadn’t planned for her to treat me this way. I thought our reunion would be far more romantic, more passionate. I want her so badly I’d crawl to her room, but she’d try to kill me the moment I stepped inside.
“She pointed a pair of scissors at me. Do you think that’s being okay?”
“She’s terrified because they’ve filled her head with lies.” I set the glass down on the coffee table and rise to my feet. “She’ll be fine, Mom. She just needs time to get used to it.”
She folds her arms. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Dante, but Francesco would be disappointed in how you’re treating her.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t bring Dad into this.”
“I already did. Either you explain to that girl what’s going on, or I will!”
“You can’t.”
“Dante!”
“I just need a few weeks. You know how these things work.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “I only hope you know what you’re doing, son. Because neither she nor I understand you.”
I don’t care if they don’t. I know my ragnetta, and if we talk about what happened two years ago, she’ll retreat into her shell—or she’ll be shattered all over again.
I’ll do whatever it takes to give her peace, whether that means keeping her with me... or leaving her alone.
At lunch, I decide I’ll be the one to take her food.
I only hope she ate what my mom brought earlier. If not, I’ll have to get harsh with her—she can’t let her pride starve her.
I don’t know exactly what they told her about me. I know about the text messages, but now she won’t even look at me. She’s terrified.
I’m about to knock on the door when a heavy thud comes from inside. Finn bursts into tears.
I twist the handle, but it’s locked. “Lana?”
Silence.
I shove the key into the lock and push the door open.
Finn lies on the floor, wailing.
I drop the tray on the table and rush to him, scooping him into my arms. I touch his head, making sure it’s only a bump. Thank God for the rug.
“It’s all right, Finn,” I whisper. “Just scary, that’s all.”
He hides in my neck, crying. A shiver of comfort runs through my body, and I clutch him even tighter, moving him from side to side to soothe him.
He still smells of baby.
My gaze falls on Lana. She’s fast asleep. Her pyjamas reveal a few bruises on her arms and legs. My chest tightens, and I boil with rage.
I should’ve tortured Stefan—or helped her torture him however she wanted. What was she living inside that house? What else had I missed?
I put Finn in the cot and hand him a stuffed animal. Then I turn to Lana. I gently slide the blanket out from under her. She groans but doesn’t wake. Everything that happened yesterday must have worn her out. I can’t blame her; I’m exhausted too.
I must clear things up, but I don’t know how to do it without disappointing her, without taking away her trust in her mother or forcing her to stay here. I can’t tell her the whole truth until I’m sure she’ll be safe and content, no matter what decision she makes.
When I finish tucking her in, I reach up to her face and kiss her temple.
I return to Finn and take him in my arms. His blue eyes are puffy, and his nose is wet. I wipe him with my sleeve and press him back to me.
“We’ll let Mommy sleep,” I whisper, stroking his little belly, “and you will come and have lunch with me.”