I hated to be pulled in different directions. I wanted to know what Anya’s recovery would look like, if she was wounded and needing more help. But I had Andre to help. He was loyal and dedicated to step in for me whenever I needed him.
“I need to handle this,” I told them, looking at Claire and noticing she’d left her long hair down to dry. “Andre can get all that we need to know from you.”
Rolling with the changes, Andre dipped his chin once in acknowledgment and grabbed his phone. He didn’t need instructions. He’d question Claire. And I bet he’d record it all, too. Thorough as always.
Back on the phone with Roman, I listened to the latest threats and attacks. Roberto was messing up our drug shipments, again, but he was taking this too far.
“Too many of our men are getting killed because he wants to get ahead in the game,” I growled.
“It’s not as bad as Popov taking Anya, though.”
I narrowed my eyes, absently scowling at the garden as I walked through the back patio area. It was all bad. Any threat or strike against any of us was a sin I wouldn’t ignore.
Finished with the call, I went to find Claire and Andre. She was gone, but my son had a recording for me, just as I suspected.
“She just left. She wanted to check on how she is doing.”
I sat and heaved out a sigh.
“What was that about?” he asked, handing me his phone.
“Roman. More bullshit with the Giovannis.”
He smirked. “Some days, it never stops.”
I set the phone down and sighed. “Just tell me what she said.” I didn’t have the patience to listen to it all.
“Anya couldn’t identify the Popovs. She’s never met them before. They didn’t touch her, not like that. She’s pure.”
Thank fuck.
I wasn’t concerned about her being a virgin to marry her off as one. I just wanted to spare her being raped.
He went on, relaying what Anya had told Claire. I was impressed, again, that Claire got her to talk at all. She was ashrunken, shivering mess, stuck in shock. Yet, Anya trusted this doctor I couldn't resist. She opened up to her, telling her all that she heard, where she was moved, what the Popovs threatened, and how she felt that I didn’t care about her enough to save her.
I blinked, overwhelmed with all that he shared.
“Of course I fucking care,” I growled.
“You shouldn’t have to spell it out for her,” he said, standing. “You never did with me.” He set his hand on my shoulder. “I know you care. Obviously.”
“But she’s nothing like you.” I sat forward and put my face in my hands.
“Nope. Not at all.” He moved to the door. “Claire seems like a good start, though. She’s proving to be very instrumental in getting her to talk at all.” Pausing at the door and rubbing his chin, he shrugged. “And maybe Anya and I aren’t so different after all. Neither of us had a mother growing up. Neither of us has a clue how to connect like other siblings might. That doesn’t mean that can’t change, though.”
I sighed, sitting back and watching him go.
It stung that Anya would assume I didn’t care whether she lived or died. Her welcome had been a testy one, but I didn’t deprive her of anything. I’d be the first to admit I didn’t know how to be a father to a daughter, one I never knew all her life. But I was willing to meet her in the middle. It had been a battle of her not even wanting to be near me at all, though.
Later, Claire knocked on the door to my study.
“Come in,” I said, setting down the drink I’d poured a few minutes ago.
“She’s resting again. And she ate a decent amount.” She entered the room and closed the door behind her. “I’m guessing Andre filled you in?”
“He did.”
She raised her brows. “All of it?”
