I pause for a beat, wondering at the pain in her voice and expression. I’m aware that her mother is dead but I don’t know how she passed.
“Are those hers?” I question gently.
Lindsay looks up sharply like she’s just remembered I’m in the room with her.
“Yes,” she murmurs before looking away from me, getting to her feet to finish packing.
She doesn’t say another word as we leave the hotel. It’s worrisome.
On the way there, I can’t help it when my eyes flit over to her occasionally as I drive.
I usually like silence. It gives me space to think. Especially considering I’m taking the woman at my side to my home, when I’ve never brought anyone over before.
There’s also the matter of my son, whom she has no clue even exists.
It’s messy, and usually I don’t touch messes. I especially don’t create them. So why do I keep finding it hard to stay away from her?
The mansion has always been just for me and my son. We’ve rarely had anyone else over apart from family. And I can’t helpbut wonder if Leo would be opposed to having a house guest. I have no idea how he would react to Lindsay.
There’s always the Vitale estate, where Valentina and Salvatore live. I’m sure they wouldn’t be opposed to taking her in. But I can’t imagine letting her out of my sight.
I need her to be close to me. She’s mine to protect.
She shouldn’t be. Every inch of me wants to disagree but my heart and fuck it, my head wants nothing more than to keep her hidden. To ensure she’s far away from anything that would dare to hurt her.
As asinine as it is, I’ve begun to think of Lindsay Beaumont as mine.
I’m smart enough to know that’s a mistake. But I feel it all the same.
The city lights blur past the windshield, reflections shifting across the glass as we move farther from the center, into quieter streets, into territory that belongs to me. Lindsay shifts slightly in the passenger seat.
“What’s on your mind, Kitten?” I ask because her silence really grates on my nerves.
I prefer her feisty and mouthy. That way, I don’t have to guess what’s wrong with her.
There’s a challenge in her beautiful eyes and a comeback on those soft, pink lips.
“The person who shot my father.”
Right… Of course she’s wondering who was responsible. I would be, too.
She turns to look at me and I can feel the intensity of her blue eyes. The rage crackling beneath her spine. I think about her tears at the hospital. The way her body had shaken as I held her, and I feel her rage acutely as well.
“Do you know who it was?” she questions.
I shake my head, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Not yet. But I’ll find out.”
“And when you do?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I answer easily.
“No, you won’t,” she retorts.
“What?”
“I said you won’t do anything. I’ll take care of it. It’s my father he almost killed. My problem. I won’t let you kill anyone else for me, Matteo. I won’t be your excuse to act on your depravities.”
Her words settle between us sharply. My teeth clenched. Needing full concentration for this conversation, I turn the steering wheel to the side and stop the car roughly by the side of the road. I don’t miss Lindsay’s sharp exhale as I do.
