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He had led me to a plush sofa in the living room, gesturing for me to sit. I sank into the cushions, still yearning for the balcony railing I’d just left behind, as if it could anchor me to some semblance of control.
“How did you get me up here?” I asked.
“I offered you water,” he said. “In the car, when you were upset.”
“You drugged me?” The realization was almost too horrible to think about.
“I thought trying to throw you over my shoulder while pregnant, and contending with slippery stairs, wasn’t the best way to approach this,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a sip from his own coffee.
“So you gave me water that was laced with something,” I cut in sharply, the memory surfacing like oil on water. Anger flared within me, hot and raw. “Did you forget I’m carrying your grandchildren?”
“Of course not,” he answered quickly, his brow creasing with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. “That’s exactly why I consulted a doctor about how much I could...administer without harm.”
“Consulting a doctor on how to drug me doesn’t sound as noble as you think it does, Daddy,” I snapped back, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “Did you drug the coffee too?”
He shook his head, looking a little hurt. I wanted to console him–because of course I fucking did–but I didn’t. “Do you want to swap?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “If you drugged me, it’s too late, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t drug you, baby,” he swapped our coffees despite my say so. “And last night was entirely out of necessity.”
“What the fuck,” I said under my breath.
“I suppose your response is expected,” he said. “Look, Adriana, there’s a lot I need to explain.”
“Then start explaining.” My words were clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness of the room.
“Protecting my family has always been my only goal,” he began, folding his hands together as if in prayer. “You and your sister, and now...” He glanced towards my midsection, acknowledging the life growing inside me, “...my grandchildren.”
“I know you’re not happy about it,” he continued, undeterred by my interruption. His eyes held mine, trying to bridge the gap of trust that had widened between us. “But right now, this is how I keep you safe—from Tristan and Nick Rossi.”
“Tristan?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice. “Tristan wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Adriana,” he said, a touch of steel lining his gentle tone, “the Callahans are not the protectors you think they are. They’re a threat, especially to my daughters.”
“Malachy was a threat. Tristan is my future husband.”
“Tristan Callahan is a dangerous man, Adriana,” he said. “Not just for our legacy, but for you. For your children. Do you really not understand that?”
I shook my head, opening my mouth to defend him, but Dad stopped me from talking by showing me his outstretched palm.
“Your children’s father showed exactly who he was when he was too much of a coward to marry you in the first place,” he said. “He’s a threat.”
“Threat?” The word felt foreign on my tongue, especially linked to Tristan. He was…sure, he had done some fucked up things. But he wasn’t a threat. He was the reason I was alive. “I don’t understand. What does Tristan backing off from our engagement have to do with any of this?”
“Everything, Adriana,” Silvio answered, his gaze unyielding. “It all started then. And ever since then, I’ve done everything I can to keep you alive.”
Chapter Seventeen: Tristan
We raced back to the Callahan estate.
I couldn’t deal with the stares. I couldn’t deal with the way our engagement party had ended, with Adriana missing and Nick Rossi right fucking there.
If he had done anything to hurt her…
But Kieran had done his best to convince me that she was, in fact, alive, and that killing Nick Rossi was a dumb idea.
I was drunk, he wasn’t. I didn’t want to listen to him, but it would’ve been a sloppy job in any case, and I wanted time to plan.
