I wash her cuts, taking care of each one and silently swearing revenge. I’d say it was paternal, since she’s so much younger than me, but my feelings for Caterina are far from fatherly. She can call me Daddy, sure, but I want her with a savage, carnal edge.
“You’re quite certain you didn’t pass out?” I ask again. Her head injury has bled a lot.
“Believe me, I was awake for all of it. I’m not likely to forget,” she says with a twist of irony, then hisses as I dab antiseptic onto her wound.
My fury that they marred my perfect girl is endless. The cut is in her hairline, and will be invisible once healed. But the bruise that’s blooming on her cheek will be sore, and the monster inside me wants to rip the person responsible limb from limb.
She sits obediently and answers my all my mundane questions as I pretend not to know that her name is Caterina Hart and she’s a university student. I know everything about her. I’ve been stalking her. Then I call the Angel mafia physician on speakerphone, and she answers all his questions, too. He suggests rest, and for her to be with someone in case she takes a turn for the worse, but otherwise gives her the all-clear.
“Do you think I should try to contact my parents?” she asks when I’m finishing the last of her dressings and she’s holding an ice pack on her cheek. “They said my mother stole from them,but I find that hard to believe. She’s so busy with her children’s charities.”
“When did you last speak with your parents?” The part about them finding out if she called them seems important.
“Last week they called and left a message. Dad said they were going on holiday, but that they’d be out of signal. They will phone me as soon as they can, and to not call, because it would cause problems. It was a bit weird to be honest, because they never go away. They’re proper homebodies.”
There’s a lull as I unwrap another dressing and I think.
“Where did he say they were going?” I ask, a theory forming in my mind.
“He said… I didn’t catch the name, actually.”
“And did he tell you to do anything else? Other than not phone them.”
“Only that I should focus on my studies and prepare for my exams…”
“And the call was from a blocked number?”
“Yes.” There’s a hint of concern in her voice now. “Do you think the same men who came for me got them?”
“Nyet. I think your parents have gone into hiding somewhere safe.”
“Oh…” I almost see the facts line up in her brain. “That makes sense. They didn’t come to get me, but I suppose they couldn’t.”
If it were my daughter, I’d have faced any threat to have her with me. “Maybe they believed that by keeping contact to the absolute minimum and not telling you anything, they reduced the risk to you.”
She smiles wanly.
I sit back and regard my work, checking for anything else I could tend to so she’s more comfortable, while determinedly avoid looking at her luscious tits.
“Thank you for looking after me.”
I give a curt nod because my throat has closed. My body obviously thinks words aren’t necessary. But Caterina has no idea how much I would take care of her, given the chance. I’m too old for her. I’m a shadow, and this girl is sunshine. We can’t fit.
“And coming to get me,” she adds then pauses.
I don’t know how to acknowledge this either, without it becoming a declaration of love and a possessive claiming. So, I don’t. I busy myself tidying up the first-aid items.
“How did you know I was in the wardrobe?” she asks suddenly.
“Because I have one too. Bloody stupid, awkward little part of this building. I knew if you were hiding in your apartment, it would be there.”
I don’t tell her I was franticly hoping she had left for work early, and as soon as Steve was in the doctor’s care and not actively dying, I went straight to find her. The bar owner hadn’t seen her, and I raced back with my heart lodged in my oesophagus.
And that was when I found her.
“What do you keep in it?” she asks innocently.
Uh… Guns. Lots of guns. But I suspect that won’t be a reassuring answer right now. After her run-in with the Italian mafia, I don’t think my being a Bratva kingpin will be to my advantage, and she mustn’t go looking for trouble in my apartment. “Girls who ask too many questions.”
