Page 77 of Out of Control

I nod and grin, pulling her tighter against me as I move down the hall.

She’s not the only one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sofia

His body is warm against mine as I blink against the sun’s rays lighting up the room.

I snuggle into him. Into his presence. Into the fact that clearly I fell asleep last night and he let me stay here to sleep.

It’s a weird feeling but one that is so damn right it’s ridiculous.

“You going to tell me why you were so upset last night?” he asks, obviously sensing that I’ve woken up.

I groan. “I just want to lie here and enjoy this. The quiet. The time without thinking—”

“The avoidance of all the things?”

“That too.” I close my eyes and replay the phone call from yesterday after I’d hung up with Lilith.

“El patriarca? Hi. How are you?” If surprise were a sound, it would be my voice.

“My Sofia. How are you?”

“I’m good. Um . . .” Why are you calling me? You hate phones, would rather talk in person. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Yes. All is good. There’s a matter I want to speak with you about.”

He knows about Rossi.

It’s my first thought. It’s my last thought. It’s the one that twists my heart.

“What is it?” I infuse cheer into my voice.

“This gallery of yours. The opening will be in six weeks.”

“But . . . no. The artmonte-carlo is in five weeks. That’s when I’m slated to open it.”

“No. You’ll move it.”

“But . . .”

“I want to throw a party. For Cruz. It is the weekend you want. You will change dates.” Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t speak. “If you want my blessing on this . . . venture . . . you will change the dates. You are needed here at the villa to celebrate your brother.”

“Celebrate what though?” I ask.

“Do I need a reason to celebrate one of my grandchildren?” he asks.

“No.” But you could easily use that weekend to celebrate me. Your son’s other grandchild.

“Yes?” he asks.

I stand with one hand on my hip and my vision blurring from the tears of frustration.

To finally get his blessing, but to get it with strings so thick, I’m not sure it’s even feasible to cut them.

“My grandfather called yesterday. Said he’d give me his blessing on the studio, but only if I change the opening date,” I say and explain the rest of the conversation. Even the words sound stupid to say. I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman who has to wait for her grandfather to approve the things in her life.