I can't move as he stops and looks at me.
The daggers wanting blood in his gaze are real.
And guilt over my secret crashes down.
Then he narrows his eyes like he can sniff guilt. "Did you?—?"
"Wh..." That's all I get out.
I can't form the rest of the word what. I can't make my thoughts cohesive enough to complete a sentence, and I don't think he's listening. I look to the stairs to see if Lyndall is coming down. But she doesn't appear, and I can barely breathe.
Sorry.
She said sorry.
He knows.
Does he?
Enzo storms up to me and grabs my arms.
It doesn't hurt, the pressure is firm, but I don't recognize the murderous storm in his face.
Right then, I'm taken back to Dad and his father, to...not words, I don't remember words, just some shouting, and his father had the same expression as he glared at Dad.
And when he saw me, just a kid, the man had looked at me with this murderous storm, cold, violent, deadly. And it hit me so hard it felt like all his bad feelings were just for me.
I burst into tears and ran.
Back then, I think this man, then a boy, comforted me.
And now...he is looking at me with that same expression on his face that once lived on his father's. And it makes me cold inside, and my toes curl in my shoes.
He shakes his head. "Shit, Lola. Did you fucking know?"
I stare at him.
Know what?
But he keeps going.
"I'm going to fucking kill him. She's a fucking child. And she can barely take care of herself, let alone a fucking baby. All the things she wants to do with her life, all of that. Ruined. No Juilliard, nothing. Fuck. Death is too good for him."
Oh. Shit.
The realization hits me hard in the face.
He thinks Lyndall's pregnant?
Really?
How?
When?
Because I took the test ages ago.
But how is it still here?
