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“Imports and exports are only dangerous if they’re illegal.”
“Are you an expert?”
She doesn’t answer me and is quiet long enough that I’m about to turn back to my reading when she speaks again. “Is it true what your father said? About how he killed my father?”
“He was trying to upset you. Don’t let him.”
“But was it true? Did he do all those things? Play with him like that? Scare him like that in the last few minutes of his life?”
“Everyone’s afraid of death in the end, Cristina, no matter who they are or how powerful they are. Your father was no exception.”
“Did you see him die? Do you know—”
“What will it do for you to know how he died? To know his final moments?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Nothing. It will change nothing,” I tell her. “Let it go.”
“I was scared, you know.”
“You were a child, and you heard and saw strange men in your house. What else would you be but scared?”
“I mean that I knew what was happening was bad, but I was too scared to do anything to help him.”
“What would you have done? You were ten years old and there was an army of men in that study.”
“Is that why you took me back upstairs?”
“I wouldn’t let them hurt a child.”
“But you’ll hurt me now.”
I don’t reply, and when her violet eyes fill with tears, they lighten like the blue of a sunrise kissed by pink.
Something about seeing her like this upsets me. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s a physical sensation that goes hand in hand with it. And I don’t like it.
“I never told anyone either,” she adds.
“Cristina, there’s nothing you could have done to change your father’s fate. Just take comfort now in the fact that he loved you very much.”
“Why do you say that?” she snaps. “How do you even know that?”
I’m surprised at her tone.
“Do you know what I think?” She wipes away a tear with a swift flick of her wrist like she’s angry with those tears. “That he wished Scott had survived instead of me.”
My jaw clenches. Maybe her father and my father are more alike than either of us knows. “You don’t know that.”
“He hardly could stand to look at me after the accident.” She gives a strange, almost ugly laugh. “Tell me again how much he loved me.”
“Sometimes people do stupid things especially when they’re drunk, and I believe your father was drunk a lot of the time.”
“Don’t make excuses. He didn’t love me, Damian. Not like he loved his son.”
“In the end he gave up his life to save yours. He made the deal to buy those eight years. That’s something, Cristina. Hold on to that. Because I can tell you one thing. My father wouldn’t do that for me.”* * *Although she remains silently watching out the window for the most part, I see her steal glances my way.
I’m curious about what she just said about her brother. Or more accurately, how she said it. Do we have that in common too? The sibling who isn’t good enough?
Once we get to the building that houses our penthouse, the SUVs come to a stop.
The doorman, Harry, who is as old as the building, steps out to greet us.
I climb out, then offer to help Cristina, but she refuses my hand. She slides out of the SUV herself.
I shake Harry’s hand in greeting and ask about his family before introducing Cristina.
“Ms. Valentina will be my guest while I’m here.”
He greets her.
“Has Dr. Davidson arrived?” I ask him.
“Yes, sir,” he says. “Waiting upstairs.”
“Good. Let’s go in,” I tell Cristina, setting a hand on her lower back to guide her inside.
I’m going to be late to deal with the Clementi situation, but they can wait. I have a feeling Cristina is not going to be so compliant when she understands what happens next.
By the time we cross the luxurious lobby, the elevator doors open, and I gesture for her to enter. I follow her in, and we ride up with Cash, the soldier who will remain behind with Cristina.
A few moments later, we step off the elevator on the twenty-fourth floor and enter the penthouse. I can see that Cristina is impressed even though she tries not to show it. Although she has been raised with money, this is another level of wealth.
Dr. Davidson turns from the glass wall that overlooks the city and smiles.
“Doctor, thank you for coming on short notice,” I say.
“It’s no trouble, Damian,” he says as we shake hands. “How is your father? Not well enough to travel?”
“He wasn’t invited,” I say, and I see that he’s not sure how to take that for a moment. But then I smile, and he laughs a little awkwardly. “This is Cristina Valentina. Cristina, this is Dr. Davidson.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Valentina.”
