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Of course, my night out might have nothing to do with the last-minute demand. After all, Todd Rogers continues to use Fiona to poke at his gold digger by insisting we join the family for dinner. This evening could be nothing more than a way for the evil man to get under Ashley’s skin.
Though I detest these dinners, I’m proud by how quickly Fiona has adjusted. She’s less terrified before we leave. Without complaint, she takes her Xanax and dresses in her safety gear. She often stops on the walk to open her eyes a crack and look around. The autumn evenings bring darkness earlier, leaving the estate lit by many lanterns. Fiona does better when she can peek at the world before hiding in the darkness again.
“I hope we have potatoes,” she tells me when we walk over with Gatsby tonight. “I like those cheesy ones.”
“Those are called au gratin.”
Fiona smiles at the name, trying to memorize it for later. She’s in a good mood since we talked. Despite Fiona’s mopiness when I arrived home, her new caretaker seems like a solid fit.
I’m starting to believe my dreams can come true. No one needs to lose out or be left behind. Eagle can be mine, the baby will be healthy, and Fiona can flourish.
As soon as we walk through the mansion’s side door, reality cuts through my hopeful dreams.
I spot Jimbo down the hallway, standing between the family dining room and us. I can’t avoid him unless he wants me to, but that’s clearly not his plan for the day.
I reach over and run my fingers down Fiona’s ponytail before whispering, “Your brother wants to speak to us.”
“Which one?”
“Jimbo.”
“Can he hear us yet?”
“No,” I whisper as we walk slowly toward the large man dressed for dinner in black slacks and a beige sweater.
“Don’t tell him but grown men shouldn’t have such silly names.”
I smirk at her comment, remembering when she learned of Marky’s death. One of her first questions was, “Why would any self-respecting grown man want a child’s name?”
Fiona is very focused on names lately. She said Eagle had a majestic name, so she knew he was good enough for me. I can’t imagine what she’d think if I announced I fell for a man named “Hobo” or “Walla Walla.”
“Hello, Jimbo,” I say as we try to walk past him.
Jimbo’s large build blocks our path. “Why are you slumming with that biker?” he asks, erasing the space between us until I’m pinned against the wall. He rests his large hand next to my head and leans closer until his breath dampens my face. “That Eagle is a chump. He doesn’t run anything. Doesn’t even have a fucking house of his own. He’s a child, and you’re a woman.”
Next to me, Fiona searches for my hand. “I want to join Father for dinner.”
“Shut up, dipshit,” Jimbo growls while his blue-eyed gaze holds mine. “I’m trying to make Irina’s life better.”
Despite my racing heart, I erase the fear from my face and reply, “Please, Jimbo, let us go to dinner.”
His fingers wrap around my throat, just enough to feel snug. Panic surges inside me. My chest tightens. I don’t want to show my fear.
Jimbo tugs me forward before knocking me back, so my head bounces off the wall.
“Irina,” Fiona whispers.
“She’s thinking about her future,” Jimbo says as he stares into my eyes and tugs me forward again.
“Please, don’t,” I ask him.
“I can be your knight in shining armor. All you’ve got to do is dump that thug.”
“Let us go to dinner.”
Jimbo’s hand remains snugly around my throat while his free hand slides across my waist.
Instinctively, I flinch and mutter, “Don’t.”
