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I smile. “I promise I will.”
“Right, everyone.” Angelo ushers them to the door. “Let’s give Sabella time to rest before dinner.”
Sophie hangs back. “Are you staying here for good?”
I look at Angelo.
“Yes,” he says, holding my gaze. “She is.”
“Forever?” Sophie asks.
Angelo ruffles her hair. “Forever and ever.”
“Okay,” she says with a satisfied nod. “I’ll go tell Beatrice and Alison.”
Angelo ushers them outside and closes the door before walking to the side of the bed where he stops to scrutinize me. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
He cups my face. The pain that sparks in his eyes reflects in my heart. “It’ll get better.”
Yes, it will. Both of us know that from experience.
I savor the warmth of his palm on my skin for the couple of beats he keeps his hand there before moving it away.
“Is she still projecting herself on the dolls?” I ask.
“Less and less.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sabella, I haven’t told you everything that happened. I couldn’t talk freely at the hospital.”
My stomach clenches. “I saw the fighting in the forest. I’m so sorry, Angelo. How many poor men died?”
“Numbers aren’t important,” he says evasively. “What matters is that we dealt with the men who started that war.”
“Are they dead?”
The light in his dark eyes is cold. “All of them. The kidnappers as well as the men who hurt you.”
I don’t feel remorse for those men. All I experience is a sense of justice. A sense of relief. “The kids look well and happy. They weren’t hurt, were they?” The question has been tormenting me since Angelo called to tell me they were taken.
“They just got a big scare.” He adds with a note of pride, “They were very brave. The boys even attacked me, thinking I was one of the kidnappers.”
“Oh my God. How did you find them?”
“We tracked their trail until late into the night. The kidnappers drove off with the kids in the SUV after dumping my driver.” His black eyes glitter with loathing. “My men found Waldo’s body in a ditch not far from the school.”
“That’s horrible,” I exclaim.
“I’m only grateful the kids didn’t see when those fuckers offed Waldo. The kidnappers pulled bags over their heads.”
The thought of that alone sends a wave of hot anger through me.
“Marziale overrode the cameras in the new house and intercepted our communication.” His jaw bunches. “Did you try to call me when the shooting broke out?”
“Yes.” I swallow at the memory. “A recording said the number didn’t exist.”
“I tried to call you when I found the kids, but the phone just rang. When I checked the cameras, you were in the shower.”
“How did they manage that?”
