Page 76 of His Assistant

“He has family.”

“Yes. A sister protected by walls, money, and men who would die before they let anyone breathe too close to her. Rafe, who may as well be a blade with legs. Soldiers. Lawyers. Drivers. Useful people, certainly, but not soft people.”

I hate how easily he says that.

“And then there’s you,” he continues, turning back toward me. “A pregnant mistress.”

My skin crawls.

Dad spits blood onto the floor. “Go to hell.”

Calderone looks amused.

“I see where you get that fire from, Sofia. It’s cute how hard you two are fighting to pretend you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Dominic will find me,” I say.

“I’m sure he will try.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Possibly.” Calderone takes a sip of his drink. “But not before he makes mistakes. Men like Dominic are most dangerous when they are cold. I need him hot. Reckless. Human.”

My stomach twists. I think of Dominic’s face when I stepped away from him outside the safe house. The way he looked like I had hit him. The way I did it because I needed him to understand that his control had hurt me too.

Calderone sets down his glass. “Marco and I need to finish our conversation.”

“No,” I say immediately.

Dad’s eyes go to mine. “Sofia, don’t.”

Two men move toward Dad.

“No.” I try to step forward, but the hand on my elbow becomes an arm across my waist. “No, stop. Leave him alone!”

Dad struggles as one of the men cuts the ties around his ankles and hauls him upright. He’s too weak. His knees buckle almost immediately, and I make a sound I don’t recognize.

“Papa!”

He looks at me, one eye swollen, mouth trembling. “Don’t look, carina.”

That breaks me.

I fight then.

I kick backward and catch the man holding me in the shin. He grunts, and for half a second, I almost get free. Then another man grabs my arms, and between the two of them, they hold me still.

“Let him go!” I scream.

Calderone stops at the door and looks back at me. “For what it’s worth, I have no intention of killing him tonight.”

I hear the emphasis. He plans to kill him eventually, then. That’s no comfort to me at all.

They drag Dad through the door. He tries to keep his feet under him, stumbles once, and I nearly fold in half from the pain of watching it. The door shuts behind them, muffling his voice, then cutting it off entirely.

The men finally let me go.

I stumble back until my legs hit a chair, then sit, because if I don’t, I’ll fall. My whole body is shaking now. Hands, knees, teeth. Everything. The man from the car sets a bottle of water on the table beside me.