Page 37

I guess I would trust Penelope if she even knew how to drive. I have another driver going under strict training and interrogations right now, and he will be assigned to Penelope only. He will be at her beck and call for anything she needs.

I haven’t found her a bodyguard yet, but that just means I can be by her side every second of the day. Once I find someone for her protection, he will go under a minimum of a year of training and intense interrogations to make sure he is safe to be around her and can actually protect her.

I know she won’t be happy having someone follow her around all the time, but that’s a price you pay in this world. I know she didn’t ask to be here, but fortunately it’s just the way God wanted her to go, right into my arms.

My thoughts linger on her. My Moss. I need to get her more important things. She needs a phone to communicate with me. She can have a laptop to watch videos or movies on the roof.

I know you can cover TV’s that are outside, but I don’t want something to fail on the protection, and then at that point I’m just buying TVs like candy. I’m rich enough to buy millions of TV’s, but I also know there are better things to spend money on.

I’m brought back to reality when a doctor walks through the doors that I’ve been kicked out of many times, looking directly at me.

I walk over to him and see the fear in his eyes, but he speaks anyway, “Mr. Petrov. Your mother is done with surgery and stable. It will take several weeks of physical therapy for her to use her arm again; she is very lucky. You are free to visit her whenever she is in room twenty-three.” I don’t let him speak another word before I take off through the doors with Viktor hot on my heels as we search for her.

“There.” His voice gruffs from behind me as he points over my shoulder. I see the door with a twenty-three on a small plate nailed to the wall. Rushing towards it, I open the door. Viktor and I almost topple over each other as we both try to fit through the small door at the same time.

The sight in front of us causes our breathing to stop. She lies on the hospital bed, a sickly pale color on her skin, as if all the blood had drained from her body. Dark and deep-looking circles are around her eyes, looking like someone scooped all the life from her face with a spoon.

Viktor walks over to her first, pulling a chair up to the bed to sit next to her. Tears are streaming down his face as he grabs her hand, brings it to his mouth, and places a soft kiss on it.

“Пожалуйста, проснись,” Viktor murmurs, resting his forehead against the back of her hand. He looks up at me, his face full of despair. “She’s so cold.” I bring a chair to the other side of the bed and take a seat, taking my mask off, my lungs deflating.

We sit here for hours. No words have been said between us. We’ve just sat here in silence, watching her. No life has come back to her skin, but no more life has left either.

A click of the door opening has Viktor’s attention, but I don’t turn, not having my mask on. I see him look back at me with an unreadable expression on his face. “Turn around,” he says, and I do, and I see her.

Penelope stands in the open doorway in a gray sweatshirt and black leggings, her blonde hair is in a ponytail with a few strands falling out and framing her face.

I get up without another thought, striding over to her and pulling her into my arms, my leg shutting the door as I turn around with her and walk back to my chair, not wanting to be away from Mama for even a few seconds.

I sit down with her on my lap, her legs going through the holes under the armrests and lying on the side of the chair. She gasps when she sees Linda and crawls off my lap to get closer to her. Grabbing one of her hands, she questions, “What happened to her?” Tears gather in her eyes, a fall falling over her lids.

“Someone shot her,” Viktor snaps, looking regretful because of his tone, but he doesn’t apologize.

“She’ll make a full recovery, but I will tear the fuckers who did this to her limb from limb. They could have fucking killed her,” I add on, my voice quieter and softer. She looks over at me, sadness strewn on her face. She comes over to me and sits back on my lap in the way I had her.

“One of your men was shot at the manor earlier today,” she says softly.

“Who? Why? Why did nobody contact us?” Viktor says, pulling his phone out, and his brows knit together as he sees the screen. He looks up at me. “It was Ethan Vanhouhn. There was an incident between him and her.” His eyes flick to Penelope, and I tense. Her head is resting on my shoulder, but I push her back, wanting to look in her eyes, see the reaction on her face.

“What happened, Moss?” I hate the way my tone comes out, harsh and clipped, but I’m in no mood for games right now. Her face crumples, tears already starting to pool in the corner of her big eyes.

“He grabbed my wrist and said to go with him. I said no and he tri-ied to pull me down th-he hall. A-a girl saw and sho-ot him.” Once the tears start, they don’t stop, and I know she’s not crying for just herself, but for Mama as well. She got really close with Mama first, her being the first person she spoke to. I’m mad I wasn’t the first person she spoke to again, but if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was her.

“Her name is De-estiny. I hung o-out with her and her frien-nds for dinner. They are nice,” Her face looks content, saying that, almost happy. Happy that she found friends to keep her company. It’ll be nice for her to be around other gir-

“Are Destiny’s friends boys or girls?” I growl. I may know everybody that lives on my manor, but I don’t know everyone. Half of the people I’ve never met.

I do know Destiny. She’s the girl I got upset with for fucking my food up, but I’m more than fine to put that behind me now, knowing she protected my Moss.

“There is Luna, Melody,” She trails off for a second as she thinks, continuing a couple of seconds later, “Anna, and Kai.” Okay, so there is a male in the group, maybe? I know girls can be named Kai.

“Girl Kai or boy Kai?” I ask. Her silence tells me all I need to know. “I don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“He’s younger than me,” she says as if I’ll change my mind. Younger men are even more horny than older men.

“I don’t care,” I growl, not leaving any room for argument.

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