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After I have some distance from today’s traumatic events, that is. I have some serious things to process and work through.
Isla pulls at my hand. When I look down at her face, her expression is set and more somber than I’ve ever seen her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Isla says again. She stomps her foot for emphasis this time. “What if something bad happens? What if you disappear like my mum did?”
I don’t know how to answer that question. My eyebrows fly up and I take a second with my answer. Somehow, I know that this is something I can’t get wrong.
“Well—“ I start. “I don’t know what happened with your mom. But this situation isn’t the same, Isla. I can promise you that.”
Her mouth balls up into a tight, disapproving frown.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t speak, Ella.”
Keir folds his arms across his chest, his expression looking just like his daughter’s.
“Someone has to say something,” I say through gritted teeth. “Isla asked me a question, Keir. I can’t just ignore her, can I?”
Keir’s mouth opens but then closes again with an audible snap. “I’ll send the doctor in,” he mutters, turning on his heel.
Seriously? I stare at his retreating figure, so angry I can barely think straight. What is Keir’s problem? He can’t really think that it’s okay to treat me this way after I almost died trying to save Isla.
“Ella…” Isla says.
I turn my attention back to Isla. She’s in tears again. I lean forward to gather her in my arms, doing what her father ought to be doing. She collapses against me like a limp rag doll.
Rocking her gently, I exhale into her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Nothing bad is going to happen to either of us.”
I’m tempted to ask about her mom, but I’m going to save those questions for Keiran. He’s mentioned his ex before so I know she’s still alive—I’m pretty sure she is, anyway.
So why did Isla say she disappeared? What really happened?
Keir has a lot to answer for… and I intend to be the one to get it out of him.
CHAPTERTHREE
KEIRAN
There’s a cloud over my penthouse in Glasgow, and it isn’t just because of the gloomy Scottish weather. This cloud has been following us all the way from Italy, and it seems to be settling in for a longer stay than I originally would have thought possible.
I’ve shown Ella the kind of life most people can only ever dream of having, and how does she thank me?
With a cold shoulder and clipped answers that leave no doubt about her sour mood. She’s nearly as salty as Isla, who seems resolute in her belief that Ella requires constant monitoring.
Isla has even taken to sleeping in Ella’s room, curled up against her body. It’s as though Isla thinks she can prevent some great from befalling Ella merely by maintaining constant contact with her body.
Three days in, I find Isla’s behavior exhausting and heartbreaking all at once. She always liked Ella, but now she’s downright obsessed. I can’t help but watch her follow Ella around like a devoted dog and just wonder how in the hell I’m going to make do whenever Ella eventually decides to leave.
Because she will grow tired of this situation. I can’t force her to stay here forever… can I?
And yeah, maybe some of this is my fault. I can admit that much, at least within the privacy of my own thoughts.
But she can’t seriously think I’d ever want anything bad to happen to her or Isla. Seeing Natasha push them off that ledge very nearly broke something inside me, and I hope I never have to feel that sense of panic and helplessness ever again.
Instead of listening to me when I try to explain myself, Ella has been acting like I pushed her myself.
I was willing to give her the time and space she needed to work through her feelings back in Rome. She was injured and frightened, and I’m not a complete asshole—no matter what she might think of me right now. Still, I only have so much patience for a shitty attitude, and that’s exactly what she’s been serving up on a silver platter for the past fifteen hundred miles.
Isla rubs her sleepy eyes and looks around the foyer of the penthouse as I carry her off the elevator. “Why are we here?”
