Chapter 11 #3
The room I've claimed as my sanctuary smells like leather and old paper and the woodsmoke from the fire crackling in the stone hearth.
Dancing shadows stretch across the bookshelves.
Luca occupies the armchair nearest the window with a bourbon in one hand and a surveillance report in the other, and I curl up on the sofa with a novel I'm too distracted to read.
The ultrasound photo sits tucked between the pages like a bookmark, and every few minutes my fingers find it to confirm it's still there.
A staff member knocks once, enters, and places a cream-colored envelope on the side table. No return address. No postmark. Hand-delivered.
Luca reaches for it first, but I'm closer.
My name stares up at me in handwriting I'd recognize anywhere, the elegant, precise script my father uses for correspondence he considers important.
My fingers tremble as I break the seal.
“Ilona.” I raise my gaze to Luca’s. I can read the warning in his expression, if I missed it in his voice.
“I know.” I hold his gaze a heartbeat longer and let him see I know the dangerous waters I’m stepping into. But still…
My dearest Ilona, I have been reflecting on my failures as a father.
I pushed you away when I should have held you close.
I do not ask for forgiveness. Only the chance to try again.
I would like to meet. Just us. No guards.
No agendas. A father who misses his daughter. Please consider it. - Your father.
The words swim before my eyes. My throat tightens around a knot of longing so fierce it borders on physical pain. This is what I've wanted my entire life. A father who admits he was wrong. A father who reaches out instead of reaching for control.
"Let me see, my love." Luca's voice carries a quiet command as he holds his hand out for the letter.
I pass him the paper and watch his dark eyes track across the page. His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking beneath his beard, his fingers pressing white dents into the paper.
"Tell me you don't trust this." He sets the letter on the arm of his chair with deliberate care. "This isn't how Enzo Marchetti operates. He doesn't apologize. He manipulates. You know this."
"I know who my father is, Luca."
"Do you? Because the woman holding that letter looked like she wanted to believe every word."
Heat flashes through my cheeks. He's not wrong, and I hate him for seeing it. "What if losing me changed him? What if watching his daughter marry his enemy and disappear from his life made him realize what he threw away?"
My heart swells with a massive amount of hope I can't seem to wrangle under control.
"People like your father don't change, Ilona. They adapt. They find new angles." He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, the firelight turning his eyes to molten amber. "Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear. In this case, read."
My jaw tightens. The rebel in me, the one with a lifetime of defiance buried under obedience, wants to argue.
Wants to tell him that he doesn't get to decide who I trust or what I believe, that controlling who I communicate with makes him no different from the man who raised me.
But the mother in me, the one whose hand drifts to her belly every time danger whispers through the room, hears the truth beneath his frustration.
"I hear you. I'm not going to run off and meet him in a dark alley.
" I cross the room and lower myself onto his lap, my legs draped over the arm of the chair, my head settling against his shoulder.
His arm wraps around me automatically, pulling me close, his chin resting against my temple.
The sandalwood and smoke scent of him fills my lungs, grounding me when everything else feels like shifting sand. "I'm not careless or stupid."
"I never said you were." His voice softens, his lips brushing my hair. "I said your father is dangerous. There's a difference."
We sit in silence for a moment.
"Promise me you won't go anywhere without me or the guards. Not for this." His hand spreads across my belly, warm and protective. "Please."
I cover his hand with mine. "This baby needs me to protect them.
I won't do anything that puts either of us in danger.
" The fire crackles and an ember pops, sending a spark skittering across the hearth.
"I just hope, you know? I meant what I said at the gala, Luca.
I want a family. A real one. What if this letter is him trying to give us that? "
"Your father is many things, jungle flower. A man who reflects on his failures isn't one of them." He presses a kiss to my temple, letting his lips linger against my skin. "Be careful with your hope. It's the most dangerous weapon he can use against you."
I nestle deeper into his arms, the ultrasound photo pressed between us, our daughter's heartbeat still echoing in my memory.
He's right. I know he's right.
But the little girl who spent twenty-two years waiting for her father to love her still lives inside my chest, and she's reaching for that letter with both hands.
I close my eyes against the firelight and let Luca hold me while the war between hope and wisdom rages beneath my ribs.