-52-
Dorian
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I maneuvered the car into the private parking spot behind the hospital. I was so lost in my thoughts that without the loud sensors, I would’ve crashed a few times.
Last night was a fucking disaster that I couldn’t get out of my head. My brothers dropped a bomb on Nina and me, but I was particularly pissed at myself. If I hadn’t left the family business, I would’ve known about it. I could’ve prepared her, protected her. Instead, all I could do was process the shock.
“Fucking Giovanni Valentino!”
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. The idiot put a target on Nina’s back and turned her into a fucking commodity. As if she meant nothing! If the asshole weren’t already dead, I would’ve done even worse things to him than the first time.
After we returned home, I caught Nina secretly wiping her tears in the bathroom. She was hurt, and I could do nothing about it because she wouldn’t let me. She ran away from Zyon’s house like someone was chasing her. And when I tried to talk and be the support she clearly needed, all I got was silence.
Her rejection stung. I understood the news was alarming and scary, but I wasn’t going anywhere. We were in it together. So why the hell did she have to do it all alone?
Well, not alone. Because she called her friend, Lucas, in the middle of the night instead of sharing her thoughts with me.
At first, I almost barged into the guest room, snatched the phone from her ear, and broke it in half. But then I heard her wretched voice and couldn’t make myself disturb her. She finally opened up after hours of pretending she was okay.
Just not to me.
“Dorian, sweetheart, are you with me?”
I flinched, blinking rapidly at my mom’s concerned face. We were in my office, and she stood before me with her hands on my shoulders, studying me closely.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, her hand cupping my chin.
“Yes, Mom, sorry,” I mumbled. “Just a tough night.” I gently wiggled from her hold, trying to remember how I got into my office. But my memory was blank.
“You’re back early.” I placed my briefcase on my desk and plopped into my chair. “Is everything okay in Chicago?”
“Technically yes.” She waved her hand elegantly and sat opposite me. “I came to visit you straight from the airport with news about the adoption.”
That directed my attention away from Nina for the first time in hours.
“What is it?” I prompted her, moving the papers and medical reports aside. “Come on, speak.”
“Without coffee?” She raised a brow, pulling on my tense nerves.
“I only have whiskey and vodka here,” I grumbled, turning in my office chair toward the hidden shelf. “Which one?”
“None!” She raised her voice, appalled. “It’s eight in the morning.”
“Okay, okay,” I mumbled, placing a plastic bottle of sparkling water and a glass before her. “Better?”
“Not so much.” Her nose wrinkled. “Give me vodka.”
A laugh spilled out of me. Of course, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to brighten her day.
“So, the adoption,” I reminded her of why she'd come, impatiently tapping my fingers on my thigh. “Tell me the steps.”
“First,” Mom said carefully, watching me over the rim of her glass. “How long have you known this little girl?”
“Aryna,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “A few weeks. Why?”
“A few weeks,” she repeated, ignoring my question. I already hated where this conversation was going.
“She’s not safe in the system,” I claimed, my heart picking up speed. “No one visits her. She’s completely alone.” My chest squeezed. “And she trusts me.”