“Are we leaving?” I swing my legs off the side of the bed, stifling a yawn as I rise.
He shakes his head. “Elio is with the others at Nat and Leo’s place. The guys went there after our round, but I didn’t stay. Elisa said you weren’t feeling well, and I wanted to check on you.” His eyes peer deep into mine. “Is that the truth, or have I done this?”
“You haven’t done this,” I truthfully reply. “I’m not feeling great. Being around your friends, your family, reminds me of everything I no longer have.” I force a smile. “For so long, it was only Mom and me, and now she’s gone, and I feel so lost and so alone.” It’s probably the most real I’ve been with him. I work hard to trap more tears. I cannot keep crying in front of this man. I slap a hand to my chest. “It hurts so much sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.”
Cristian envelops me in his arms, and I go willingly. I don’t cry, and we don’t speak. He just holds me, and it’s everything.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he says before breaking our embrace.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. Come. I have something for you.”
Curious, I follow him out of the room and down the hallway till we come to the master bathroom. A delicate floral fragrance tickles my nose as I step into the opulent room. A freestanding tub occupies pride of place under the window, offering an expansive view of the rear gardens and the woodland behind it.
“I thought a bath might help.” He dips his fingers in the water. “It’s still warm.”
My cheeks flush, wondering if Elisa told him I had my period or if he guessed. He knows now it’s not the truth either way.
“It smells lovely in here.”
“I found some scented oil and put some in, and I left towels for you by the sink.”
“This is really thoughtful. Thanks, Cristian.”
“You’re welcome.” He backs up. “Take your time. We’re not leaving for a couple hours yet.” He lingers in the doorway.
“Okay.” My smile is genuine, and fresh hope is tentatively building as he remains in place, staring intently at me, almost like he wants to say more and he’s reluctant to leave.
He clears his throat, and his expression is tender when he says, “I can’t relate to what you’re going through as I’ve never lost anyone I loved more than life itself, but it’s totally normal to grieve, and it’s always better to let it out than keep it bottled up inside.”
I may not be grieving in the traditional sense, but I am grieving for everything Mom and I have lost. Even if we somehow manage to get out of this alive, we will never be the same people again. Our lives have been permanently altered in an irrevocable way. “You must think I’m a basket case.”
“No, Sloane. I think you’re human.”
I don’t deserve his compassion, but I’m too selfish to refuse it. “I swear I’m not usually this much of a mess.”
“You don’t need to make excuses, and you’re not alone, Sloane. My friends have already adopted you, and you have Elio.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the styling. “You have me,” he adds. “I know things are a little strained between us, but you can lean on me, Sloane. You can be Elio’s nanny and my friend, if you want.”
I see it for the lifeline it is, and I fully grasp it with both hands. “I would like that, Cristian.”
His lips curve ever so subtly. “Good.” He finally steps back. “I’ll leave you to your bath before the water goes cold.”
14
SLOANE
“Stay put,” Cristian says after parking the car in the basement parking lot of his apartment building. His eyes soften when they land on his sleeping son. Elio is out cold, fast asleep with his head resting against my side. I have barely moved a muscle in the past hour, afraid I might wake him. “I’ll get him,” he adds before climbing out of the driver’s side.
Cristian is careful opening the back door and unbuckling his son’s seat belt before gently lifting him into his arms. Elio mumbles in his sleep as he snuggles against his father’s chest. Cristian jerks his head for me to follow, and I get out of the car, still clutching the eye mask in one hand, acknowledging the bodyguards as they open the trunk and retrieve our bags.
No one talks while we ride the private elevator to the penthouse. Removing my shoes inside the front door of my new home, I slip my feet into my slides and trail Cristian to Elio’s bedroom, quietly watching him undress his son and tuck him into bed. Elio’s eyes open for a few brief seconds, and he sleepily smiles at his father before succumbing to slumber again. Cristian stares at him for a few beats before tenderly kissing him on the brow.
Pressure settles on my chest as I watch the sweet moment between father and son, and I slip away to my room before my boss sees me. Leaning back against my door, I squeeze my eyes shut as my chest tightens in pain. After I slump to the floor, I raise my knees and cradle my head in my hands.
I can’t do this. I can’t take that man away from his son.
Tears prick my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I can’t keep breaking down like I have been. The journey back to the city was agony as I battled with myself. Cristian ran me a bath, and he gave me a box of melatonin to help me to sleep. He’d gone to the pharmacy after golf, especially to pick them up for me. Then Gia gave me an Italian cookbook that was her mother-in-law’s. She said Natalia wanted me to have it so I could learn a few staples. Elisa handed me some essential oils her Aunt Sierra had given her to help with my fake PMS.
