I cross the hall to where Mirabella sleeps.
She’s curled in a ball around a fairy pillow, dreaming peacefully.
Closing her door, I make my way down the hall.
The house is quiet now.
Even so, I feel like the walls watch me, ready to report back to Alessandro.
Maybe I should go back to bed, but I’d only toss and turn.
Perhaps having a warm glass of milk will help lull me to sleep.
I push open the kitchen door and freeze.
Alessandro sits at the island counter, a glass of whiskey in one hand, papers spread before him.
His head snaps up, gray eyes locking onto mine.
"Eva." My name comes out like an accusation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." I step backward. "I'll just?—"
"Stay." It's not a request. He gestures to the stool across from him. "Join me."
Every instinct screams at me to flee, but I force myself forward, sliding onto the stool.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asks, studying me over the rim of his glass.
I nod.
“A guilty mind?”
I don’t answer.
He smirks at me. "You know, my brother has always had one weakness."
"And what's that?"
"You." Alessandro watches me, and I feel like he can see to the center of my soul, to the truth.
If that were true, would he be more understanding?
Would he know that I never meant to hurt anyone?
"He's happy," I finally say. "Isn't that what matters?"
"My brother deserves happiness. The question is whether you're capable of giving it to him."
"We're figuring things out," I say carefully. "It's complicated, with everything that's happened."
"Yes," Alessandro says, swirling his whiskey. "A lot has happened in four years. You left him broken. And then suddenly, you're back, with his child, no less."
My skin prickles with unease. "It wasn't my choice to leave."
"So you say." He leans forward. "Tell me about Boston, Eva. Did you enjoy your time there?"
The way he asks makes my stomach drop. "It was just a place to survive."
