"You're scared."
Not a question.
"I'm careful." I cross my arms.
Lily bursts back into the room before he can answer, arms full of stuffed rabbits.
"I'm ready!"
She's wearing her light-up sneakers—the ones I found at a thrift store, half-price because one light was burnt out. Her hair's escaping its ponytail. She looks so happy.
When was the last time she looked that happy?
"The car's waiting," he says. Quieter now. "One dinner. That's all."
I don't believe him.
But Lily's already tugging my hand toward the door, chattering about whether Sir Floppington prefers pasta or chicken.
And I'm out of fight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nico
The kid hasn't said a word since we left the apartment.
In the building, she wouldn't shut up. Bunny this, Bunbun that, Sir Floppington the Third needs a seatbelt. But the second Liam opened the SUV door, she went silent. Pressed herself against Kristen's side like she was trying to disappear into her mother's oversized sweater.
Smart kid. Liam has that effect on people.
I watch them in the rearview mirror. Kristen's arm wrapped tight around Lily, her jaw set in that stubborn line of hers. The streetlights flash across her face as we drive and I find myself staring at details I have no business noticing.
Chestnut hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that's coming loose at the temples. Soft curves hidden under clothes that don't fit her—too big in the shoulders, too long in the sleeves. Borrowed, probably from someone twice her size.
She's beautiful.
Her beauty is soft. Is the beauty that even trying to hide it makes it imposible.
I only stare at her because I observe people. It's what I do. I could tell you the eye color of every person in that apartment building lobby, the make and model of every car parked on her street, the exact number of steps from her door to the stairwell. Noticing that Kristen Thomas has a body I'd like to see out of those baggy clothes is just data collection.
Nothing more.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Defiant. Annoyed. Like I'm the inconvenience here.
If it weren't for the kid clutching her stuffed rabbits, I would've handled this differently. A few choice words about what happens to people who refuse Sartori hospitality. A reminder that gratitude isn't optional when my family extends it.
But Lily looked at me and showed me her bunny collection like I was someone worth trusting. And kids don't trust easy strangers.
Fucking hell.
The gates swing open as we approach.
"Is this a castle?" Lily whispers. First words she's said since we got in the car. I turn back to look at her.
"No," I say.
"It looks like a castle."
