AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Valentino and his wife left already," he said when Michele helped Zia take a seat next to him.
"How could they leave and forget about her?" Michele asked, outraged.
Zia didn't seem too concerned about this turn, and she kept her eyes on the floor, quietly ignoring the noise around her.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Nicolo mumbled, his eyes landing on her. "My brother didn't really care for another child. Valentino doesn't have children of his own, and I don't think hewantsany."
"Who's taking care of her then?"
Nicolo shrugged.
"Whoever can," he answered flippantly.
For some reason, his words made Zia uncomfortable as she snuggled deeper into Michele in search of safety, bringing her knees on the seat and placing them under her. She was so tired, she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Sleep," he smiled at her. "We'll take you home, but it's going to be awhile until we get there," he told her as he patted her head lightly.
She gave a small nod, wiggling closer and placing her head on his lap.
His eyes widened, but he didn't move her. She seemed right at home as she was.
Nicolo, though, gave him an odd look as he regarded them languidly.
"You have too big of a heart, son. And one day, that's going to be your downfall," he added cynically.
Michele frowned.
"Maybe," he eventually agreed. "But I'll have my conscience clean."
Nicolo's brows arched in surprise before he burst into laughter.
"You'll have your conscience clean?" he asked in amused outrage. "There is no such thing as a clean conscience in this world. But I guess you still have a lot to learn," he waved his hand. "Go on. Do you. At one point you'll have your wake-up call."
Michele grunted, not wanting to dwell on what his friend was saying. He'd survived for so long being exactly who he was—who he was comfortable being—that he knew he could continue on just like that.
The journey took some time, and in the meantime, Nicolo regaled him with some stories about his brother and the fact that he'd had four wives, and all had left him one way or another—the last being Zia's mother.
"She ran away," Nicolo told him. They didn't know how she managed, but they assumed she must have had an influential lover to facilitate her escape. She'd cared nothing for her daughter as she'd left her defenseless.
Michele looked down at the sleeping girl, and he couldn't help but compare how similar they were, a fact that served to make him feel even more protective of her.
They reached the Lastra mansion, and taking Zia in his arms, Michele exited the car. Nicolo signaled him to go ahead, and he merely nodded. He could gather his friend wasn't on the best of terms with his family.
She was light in his arms as he stopped at the front door, knocking lightly. A staff member opened the door, appearing quite disinterested as she saw Zia in his arms. She merely pointed the way to her room. And as Michele walked up the stairs and to the designated room, he couldn't help but feel the chill that went down his back when he saw her living conditions. They were…abysmal.
Everything was messy and dirty, as if no one had gone inside to clean in a very long time—as if no one had cared.
She was five, for God's sake.
Muttering a curse, he couldn't in good conscience leave her there. Turning, he found an empty bedroom where he laid her on a clean bed while he went in search of the house staff.
Clearly, her family hadn't returned home from the funeral so there wasn't anyone he could exchange words with—as if anyone would take a thirteen-year-oldcrusaderthat seriously.
Still, without even thinking, he found a few of the workers and asked them to clean her room. They protested for a while, but eventually Michele managed to convince them to do their job properly.
Half an hour later and the room was clean—or as clean as could be.
"It wasn't that hard in the first place," he shook his head in disgust as he went for Zia, swooping her up in his arms and taking her back to her newly cleaned room.
