Page 86 of Savage Little Secret

“I need to see him. I need to know who he is now,” I tell him as I take his hands, willing mine to not shake, praying he doesn’t pull away. Thankfully, he doesn’t. “I think that things are different with him. He’s not as harsh as he used to be.”

Dmitri’s face softens. “Almost losing you reminded him what’s left when you strip the power away,” he says.

“My mom died when I was twenty,” I tell him as I look down at our joined hands. “Even though it wasn’t that long ago, I can’t seem to remember much about her besides her laughter and her perfume. She always smelled like flowers. What I remember was that she was always working. I spent a lot of time with retired neighbors or on my own.”

“Your father never remarried?” Dmitri asks.

I shake my head. “He never married her. And I’ve never really talked to him about it. He didn’t want anything to do with her when she first told him about me. After she died, things went downhill between us.”

“He should’ve pulled you closer when you lost her,” Dmitri replies as he shifts the position of our hands, sifting his fingers through mine.

“I wonder if I remind him of her,” I say as I lift my eyes to his, a dull ache invading the depths of my chest.

“If you do, then that’s not your fault,” Dmitri tells me, his voice becoming softer. Like a caress. “You deserved better from your father. So much better.”

I frown as I hear a tinge of pain in his voice. Is he still thinking about my childhood or is his mind somewhere else? “I’m okay now.”

Dmitri leans closer, his forehead resting against mine as his eyes slide shut.

I freeze up, afraid that I’ll scare him off with even the slightest movement. Honestly, I’m scared to even breathe too heavily. This is the most intimate we’ve gotten since the night he found me.

“You wouldn’t lie to me about that, right? That you’re okay?” Dmitri asks.

My breath gets trapped in my lungs. Why would he say that?

I part my lips, but all words are lost to me. I don’t want to hide things from him, but I can’t help that I’m still stuck in the mindset that I have to do whatever I can to survive. A piece of me is still alone down in that basement.

It doesn’t help that I’m possibly pregnant, unsure how Dmitri will react to the news that he’s going to be a father.

Dmitri opens his eyes to gaze down at me, but before he can speak, a heavy knock sounds on the front door, making me jump. He draws away from me and releases my hands. “That’s probably him.”

I nod as my heart hammers faster. I feel sick to my stomach.

Dmitri walks to the front door and pulls it open as I poke my head out of the kitchen, allowing my father to step inside with a bag in his hand. “That’s a lot of food. I do make sure that she’s fed,” Dmitri replies, his voice tinged with annoyance.

I guess things aren’t totally amicable between them, but at least they don’t have guns pointed at each other. I’d rather this odd dynamic than being on the verge of war.

My father looks past Dmitri at me, his sharp features immediately smoothing out. “Hello, Cara.”

The pregnancy test has to be somewhere in that bag. Did he hide it well enough?

“Hi,” I say as I coax myself out of the kitchen. I walk over to him but stop next to Dmitri’s side, my eyes lowering to the bag. “This was…nice of you.”

He holds up the bag. “It’s coddle. Your grandmother’s recipe. Your aunt, Ava, made it.”

“Thank you,” I say as I take the bag from him, feeling the heat of the stew through the brown paper.

“How are you feeling?” Sean asks, his gaze sweeping over me. When it lingers on my abdomen, I tense up.

“Fine,” I tell him as I hold the bag in front of my stomach, making his eyes dart away. I assume the pregnancy test is tucked away with my food. Can I even safely open this bag around Dmitri?

“She’s getting her strength back, and her wounds are healing well,” Dmitri tells him as he remains close to my side. “I’m taking good care of her.”

“I’m sure you are,” Sean replies.

Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice or am I making things up in my head? Maybe I still can’t accept the fact that they’re somewhat amicable toward each other.

“Do you have any updates about the rest of the Italians?” I ask my father. Dmitri hasn’t told me a thing lately, and I can only assume that he’s trying not to stress me out.