Wanting to put off the inevitable discussion, I make sure Mirabella’s covers are tucked around her.
I click on the fairy nightlight.
“Eva.” The tone in his voice suggests he knows I’m dragging my feet. “We need to talk.”
"Alright," I say because I know there’s no escaping it.
We walk in silence down the corridor to his room, his hand hovering near the small of my back like he thinks I might run and he wants to grab me if I do.
The door clicks shut behind us with terrible finality.
Time has run out.
"How do you know Ivan Vasiliev?" Adriano's voice is sharp. "And why are the Russians after you?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
I've rehearsed this moment in my nightmares since Adriano found me, imagining every possible reaction, none of them good.
"Eva. Look at me."
I raise my eyes to his, and the flicker of tenderness under the irritation is what nearly undoes me.
I consider telling him the truth again.
Is it possible to confess and not obliterate the happiness we’ve started rebuilding?
I have only one chance at this.
Once spoken, the words can never be taken back.
They'll change how he sees me forever.
The question is, will he understand?
Will he forgive me?
Or will he kill me where I stand?
"Can we talk tomorrow? It’s been a long night and I’m exhausted."
“No more running, Eva." His gray eyes search mine like he’s trying to read my mind. “Is it because of Mirabella?”
I blink, not sure what he means.
“Is Ivan targeting you because he knows I’m Mirabella’s father? He sees you two as leverage to hurt me?”
His question is an unexpected lifeline that I grab with both hands. “I guess so.”
Relief washes over me, sweet and terrible. This theory offers me a way out, a path that doesn't end with Adriano looking at me with hatred in his eyes.
He paces the room. "I should have considered this possibility. Ivan's been looking for ways to hurt my family since he took over.” He pauses, his mind whirling. “How did he even think to look for you? I can’t figure that out.” He stops, his gaze turning to me. “I realize now that I’ve made it easy for him to get to you.”
The guilt in his voice makes my guilt nearly unbearable. He's blaming himself for something that isn't his fault, for my sins, my choices.
"Adriano, you can't?—"
"No," he interrupts, crossing to where I stand. His hands frame my face with gentleness. "I'll fix this. I promise you."
