I instinctively shift, stepping into the doorway so the door can’t swing open any farther.
“Can I help you?”I ask, my tone is polite but wary.
“Hello there,” he drawls, voice smooth like old whiskey with something rotten underneath.“You’re Bonnie’s sister, ain’t you?”
Ice floods my veins.
“Um, who are you?”I manage.
The man’s grin widens.“Name’s Giovanni Russo.Bella’s father.”
My stomach drops so hard I swear I feel the floor tilt.
“What?”
“I’ve come to see my little girl.”
He says it with a smirk, like he expects me to hand her over with a bow.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding my ground, “but you need to leave.”
He ignores that entirely.“Look, I’ll make this easy on you.Just let me see her?—”
“She’s not here right now,” I cut in.“And as far as I know, Bella doesn’t have a father.”
He chuckles.Actually chuckles.The sound makes my skin crawl.
“Don’t be ridiculous.Bonnie wasn’t no Virgin Mary.”His eyes narrow, sharpen.“She took something of mine after she ran off to have my kid.Now I want it back.”
It.
He called Bella anit.
I grip the door tighter to keep from slamming it into his face.
“I’m sorry, Mr.Russo, was it?There’s nothing for you here.I suggest you leave,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Oh, Adrianna,” he purrs, pulling a card from his coat and flicking it toward me.“Let’s not make this ugly.Set things up so I can see my little girl, and we can work something out without lawyers.”
He steps back, cold air swirling around him like a bad omen.
“See you real soon,” he adds, emphasizing each word.“Adrianna.”
He smirks one last time before turning and walking down my steps like he owns the whole damn town.
My skin crawls.My stomach twists.I feel violated just by talking to him.
Bella’s father.
No.No, no, no.
Bonnie had never said a name.
Never mentioned a man.
Never hinted at fear.
But this—this is bad.Everything about that man screams danger.
