Roxy
Ten days. That's how long I've been glued to this mattress because Damien refuses to let me get up unless he's by my side.
When I asked Stefan to help me stand so I could use the bathroom, he said he'd call Damien to come from the office because apparently he'd been threatened with losing skin wherever it touches my body.
Of course I rolled my eyes and got up by myself.
You'd think someone who's always joking around wouldn't react so badly when he found me alone at the bathroom counter.
Wrong.
His gaze darkened and a frustrated growl escaped him as his hands found my waist.
"I'm only a few feet away from you. Use me, Roxanne."
Without meaning to, a smile took over my entire face, because I would've used him. Oh, but not how he thinks, and apparentlymy expression was obvious enough, because the corner of his mouth curved up.
"Soon,slonko," he said as he kissed my cheek.
Now, I'm no doctor, but since he managed to get up right after a gunshot wound, I figure after ten days of lying around, I'm good enough.
Especially since I need answers.
That's why I'm here now, with Stefan, Vasili, and Damien, in Marco Agosti's foyer.
Gianna's the one who greets us, and I think she can see on our faces this isn't a social call.
"Roxy, did something happen?" she asks.
I never noticed until now that we have nearly identical hair color and texture, because she always kept hers in a bun, but now that it's down, the resemblance is striking.
She's always been kind to me. Would I have been the same if I'd grown up in this family and not with Ivette, who reminded me at every turn that I was disgusting?
I open my mouth to answer, but no sound comes out.
"We're here to talk to Marco," Damien tells her, squeezing my hand.
Her eyes drop to Damien's gesture, and only then does she study my face. I see something in her gaze, but before I can figure out what it is, she waves for us to follow her to Marco's office.
A soldier stands at the door with a phone in hand, but the moment he sees Gianna and us, he straightens and gives a curt nod.
Gianna opens the black door, and Marco's voice echoes from inside. She leans in and calls out, "Marco, Roxy's here to talk to you."
Not Damien. Me.
She turns to leave, but when she reaches me, she grabs my hand, the one not in Damien's grip, and whispers, "Listen to him, please."
The knot in my throat doubles, but I manage to nod.
Marco rises to his feet and studies us until finally Damien breaks the silence.
"She found out, Marco."
For a second I look at my biological father, at his features, at how massive he seems, at how except for a few gray hairs at his temples, you'd swear he's not older than thirty-five.
I know almost nothing about him...
His surprise vanishes in moments, then he clears his throat.
