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“Not about the connection to his family—he’d just scoff and wave me away—but my mother has brought it up with him. He refuses to see a connection. At least, that’s what he says. You never know with him. But I’ve talked to him about the over-the-top security until I’m blue in the face.”
Her body tenses, and I want to lay her over my lap and work out the kinks. That’s not going to provide answers.
“It’s a bad situation,” I say gently, “but I don’t see how you can expect to get him to change, by fighting back the way you are. You ditched your security and walked right into the arms of the very kinds of people he’s worried about getting to you. There has to be another way, Lexie.”
She pushes her food around the plate, seemingly lost, and my heart clenches.
“I’ve tried everything. Including moving home.” Her speech is slow and her words measured. This is costing her to admit. “It didn’t get better. If anything, as my life became more of an open book, it became worse. I don’t know what to do anymore.” She shakes her head.
“But I’ll tell you what I won’t do,” she continues. “I won’t sit in a gilded cage, letting my life slip away until he comes to his senses. If he ever does.”
There’s great sorrow in her voice, and I’d like to shake Will until he wakes up and gets with the program.
“I love my dad, and the truth is, if it helped ease his burden at all, I might give that gilded cage another shot. At least for a little while. But it’s not the answer.”
No. It’s never the answer, and it’s the worst possible way to go about protecting someone like Lexie. It’s a recipe for disaster. “Would he hold you against your will?” It’s a tough question but I want to know how far she believes he’d go. Whether or not her belief is accurate isn’t important. It’s enough if she’s concerned about it.
“My mother would never allow it. She’d leave. She’s threatened. My father’s not dying on that hill. He can’t live without her.”
This is actually good news. Samantha is the gatekeeper. We all need them, but men like Will need it more than most.
“She can’t intervene on this?”
“I won’t ask her to. And don’t get any ideas about talking to her—I won’t allow her to get involved. It’s too hard on their marriage. It’s not fair to ask my mother to take sides.”
Maybe not. But this is beyond taking sides.
“You know, Rafael,” she says softly, a twinge of wistfulness wrapped around the words. “I’m not as impulsive or as much of a risk-taker as people like to believe. I would dive off a ship’s starboard into the middle of the ocean, because I’m an excellent swimmer, but I would never jump on a feisty stallion, because I’m not much of a horsewoman.”
Our conversation clearly hit a nerve with her. It was honest, and I’m not sorry it happened. Although I am sorry if it hurt her. I never wanted that to happen.
She swirls the cabernet around the crystal goblet until the wine reflects the light. “I’ll admit, I’m likely to be the one who orders a round of shots, or laughs too loud, or tells you what I really think. I’m not reserved, and I have some beliefs that I hold so dear that I’d be willing to lay down my life for them. I suppose from the outside it appears reckless.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, the blood pounding in my ears. I forced her hand on this. I made her feel like she was trouble. Plain and simple. I’m not the first person who’s made her feel that way, but I’m a bastard for it. The worst part about it is, I don’t know how to smooth things over. I can’t just say, I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I meant it. Every word.
“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.” Although in many ways, that’s exactly what I’ve asked her to do.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I know the reality isn’t as much fun as the fantasies that people have concocted about me, but the truth is, I’m more likely to help a friend in trouble than I am to lead her there.
“But back to my father,” she says, before I can figure out a response that has some semblance of truth. “Valentina’s coming home tomorrow, and she said I can stay here for as long as I’d like.”
Good—on both accounts.
“That should placate him. He knows security here is tight.”
“For now, maybe. But I suspect it’s a matter of time before he marches in here, or sends someone to kidnap me and drag me home. Especially given what happened at Sirena, and then the traffickers being killed.”
That is not happening. She’s safe here, and he knows it. I don’t give a shit who he is or how strong our family ties are. This is a hill I’m willing to die on. “Do you believe that?”
“I do.”
There’s a lot I want to say about how the risk she took with the traffickers would worry any parent, but even a prick like me knows when to keep his mouth shut. Under the best of circumstances, Will is an unreasonable motherfucker, and I can’t even begin to understand what’s going on with him. Or maybe I can.
When my mother disappeared, I promised myself that I would find her. I’ve renewed that promise often throughout my life, and despite how much I’ve searched, I’ve never even come close to knowing what happened to her. The overwhelming evidence points to my father, and my uncle, Antonio’s father. But mostly it’s the word of monsters that I’ve been relying on—my father and my brother’s words. There’s nothing definitive. It’s my greatest failing in life. And if I go to my grave without bringing her home for a peaceful eternal rest, I’ll die a broken man. Like Will.
What I won’t allow is my mother’s fate to be Lexie’s. I’m not an eight-year-old. I’m a man with great resources and plenty of power and connections of my own.
I pull Lexie onto my lap and hold her against me. To my surprise, she doesn’t balk. Not a single peep.
