Page 62 of The Doctor

Paulo released her, watching cautiously as she did what had come naturally to her since she learned how to walk—climbing into my lap like she was a princess and I was her throne.

I froze, sure the man could see my guilt. But his attention was locked on all of her wounds.

The deep purple bruise that reached from her temple to settle under her eye.

The cuts and scrapes across her cheeks, her shoulder, her hands, her knees.

“Your attacker did this to you?”

Clara huffed out a breath. She pointed to the lump near her temple. “Jayden did this. Everything else”—she motioned to the rest of her injuries—“is courtesy of my loving brother.”

Paulo’s lips pursed and he lifted his chin. “You haven’t talked to your father.”

“Why would I?” Clara tapped her thumbs against her thighs, her words pausing until I strung my fingers between hers and wrapped our arms around her middle. “Why would I bother? He’s already made up his mind about what happened.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do!”

“Clara—” I tried, but she tossed a glare back at me that cut me off.

“No, Zee. I do know. Why else do you think he showed up here, pounding on your door?” She directed her attention back to Paulo. “Why else did he go crying to you? He didn’t want to make sure I was okay. He never does. What he wants is for me to fall in line and be the perfect little daughter without a brain. He doesn’t want a daughter who thinks for herself. He doesn’t want a daughter who wants more than the stupid women's luncheons and fake friendships my mother has always strived for. And most importantly, he doesn’t want a daughter who brings negative attention to our family name because someone else thought it would be cool to fucking assault me!”

My God, the balls on this woman. I was Paulo D’Angelo’s lieutenant, and even I wouldn’t dare talk to him like that.

The tension in the room was thick, but Clara seemed immune. She pulled one hand free of mine and started tapping at her chest.

Paulo dragged his gaze over her before lifting his glass to his lips. After a small sip, he set it back down. “What should I tell your father?”

The tapping ceased. “You can tell him whatever you want. But it would be nice if you told him to leave us alone.”

For fuck’s sake. She was dragging me into this now. “Clara…”

But she just shrugged. “I’m done, Zee. I’ve had enough of coming in last.”

“Berto’s going to want to see you—”

“No, he won’t.” Clara pushed off my lap, leaving me scrambling to cover the evidence of what her temper did to me. “The only thing he wants is to yell at me. I’m just making it easier on him. He’s already shipped me off to Zeno’s house, I’m just making it a permanent move. Now I’m no longer his problem. That’s all he really wants anyway.”

With that, Clara left us, tossing an, “I’ve got a headache, I’m going to bed,” over her shoulder as she left the room.

Paulo’s eyes locked on mine, but he didn’t say a word until Clara’s pounding footsteps reached the top of the stairs. He lifted his brows, lifted his chin, then smiled as he shook his head. “At least someone around here says what they truly feel.”

22

Clara

Zee shook a single pill into my open palm before twisting the safety cap back on the bottle and turning the combination lock so I couldn’t get more. His attention didn’t leave me as I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed it down with a drink of water. He continued watching until I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth.

“Tongue out.” I did as he asked. “Lift it up.” I did that too. Satisfied, Zee stepped back and stuck my pill bottle back in the lockbox he kept it secured in, along with all his other narcotics.

“I’m not going to steal anything,” I told him, still hurt that, a week after we filled my prescription, we were still doing this morning show.

There’d be another just like it tonight.

“That’s what you said last night.”

“And yesterday morning. And the night before last. And news flash, it’s what I’m going to say tonight, too.”