In the back of my mind, she belonged to me.
“Fascinating,” I muttered. And it was.
I raked my fingers across the surface of her bookshelf, surprised the only picture she had was one of her with Golden Angel taken when the dog was a puppy. God, she looked so young, her eyes bright and as if she was ready to take on the world.
Her desk was only slightly messy, sketches covering every inch of space. I knew why. The show. The moment I’d discovered she was going to be a part of the fashion show, I’d purchased a ticket. Was I risking her seeing me?
Another laugh formed deep within my throat. Eventually, she would learn I was very much alive, returning to Italy to ensure her father became painfully aware he’d fucked with the wrong man. Whether or not her contempt for her father remained after all these years couldn’t matter.
Within a few days, the bastard would face penance for his evil deeds. I’d yet to determine what that meant.
As I shifted through her things admiring her talent, one picture caught me off guard. She’d sketched one of me. I pulled it from the stack, staring into the eyes. Even using only a full lead black pencil, she’d managed to capture the spirit that I’d once had in my own youth.
A strange series of emotions cast a moment of reverence over me. I was no longer that man, what little emotion I’d had driven away. My laugh was cold yet not bitter. While I had a strange desire to rip the damn thing into dozens of pieces, I refrained, placing the single piece of paper back into the stack.
I moved to her kitchen, opening several cabinets. I wanted to get a sense of who she’d become as a twenty-one-year-old woman.
There was no denying the woman she’d become, the innocence I’d seen in her before fading, the strength and resolve that hadbarely been awakened taking hold. While she’d been nervous walking down the runway, her confidence had built with every step.
I noticed another dog toy on the kitchen table and squeezed it until the squeaker inside sounded off. Seeing Golden Angel by her side meant she’d returned to her life.
Seeing a basket of fruit on the table, I snagged a plum, taking a huge bite and remembering just how sweet she’d tasted all those years ago.
In truth, the memories of the dark passion we’d shared had been a constant, delicious companion that had allowed my mind another reason for staying alive until I escaped or was freed.
Seeing her again.
And doing so hadn’t disappointed. Still munching on the fruit, I headed to her bathroom, flicking on the light. I laughed, seeing her shower curtain. All golden retrievers in various costumes on clear plastic. She was more whimsical than I remembered.
Good. I was glad to see she could shove aside the evils of the world if only for a little while.
Discovering her expansive number of shower gels almost brought a smile and I grabbed one, flicking it open. Strawberry. Delightful.
Once I reached her bedroom, I paused just inside. She lived on the eighth floor, high enough she had a gorgeous view of the city while also being more protected. What alarmed me was that I hadn’t seen a single bodyguard watching over her. Not one.
Why?
Did Demarco no longer care about his daughter or had she proven herself capable of handling her own security?
Or had he tossed her aside after I’d been captured?
I moved to her bed, sitting down on the comforter and turning on the gorgeous Tiffany lamp on the nightstand. Her one luxury I’d found so far. The room was sensual in nature, one access wall painted the same royal purple I’d seen in the dress she’d designed and in the rich hue of the collar chosen for Golden.
Her closet door was partially open and I couldn’t help myself, going to stand in front of her clothes. Everything about the woman surprised me, including how much of her was still the girl I remembered.
She had a few dresses that I suspected were her designs, but she also had a collection of jeans and tee shirts, sweaters and hoodies that seemed much more like a girl in her early twenties.
Yet everything about her was sophisticated.
I pulled out one dresser drawer after another until I found her lingerie. Just bringing a pair of panties to my nose brought a smile. What a pervert I’d become. I remained in her room for a few additional moments while finishing the plum.
For a man who’d shut down all his emotions, learning that pain was the only way of being reminded he was alive and that his sole purpose in life was to eliminate his enemies and enjoy the heinous acts while doing so, the softness of the moment felt strange.
As if he wasn’t allowed to share in the moments of joy the girl who’d grown into a woman had afforded herself. In those same moments, a strange and very unwanted sense of sadness slowlyebbed through my veins and muscles, even managing to cut off my air supply for a few precious seconds.
Despair had never truly been in my vocabulary, but tonight while standing in the silent, peaceful location, the emotion threatened to derail all my plans.
And why?
