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The dress falls almost down to her feet, the sleeves covering most of her hands. Even the turtleneck is much too big for her. It can’t be hers.
Spinning slowly, she holds her arms up at her sides. “They took my clothes and didn’t bring them back.”
“What?”
“The maid unpacked my bag and took my clothes. She left me some things, but they don’t fit me properly, so…”
What the fuck? “That’s why you haven’t left the room?”
“I didn’t feel comfortable to go parading about the place without my support thing. It helps with…things, and I guess I didn’t want to seem like a brat. I want them to like me. I want them to like my baby.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I take her hand and start for my room. When we get inside, I grab my bag from the back of the wardrobe, pulling out the case with the first aid kit. The scissors aren’t exactly the best, so I throw them back in and rummage around for the knife roll bag. Pulling it out, I stretch it across the bed.
“Okay, that’s some pretty impressive Dexter shit right there,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with awe as she runs her index finger over the back of one of the blades. “What are you planning to do exactly? I mean, going serial killer in this place because of my wardrobe seems extreme.”
“Sit,” I instruct her, grabbing the scissor knife from the roll.
She perches on the edge of the bed, unsure of what’s happening as she watches me closely. “Ryan…”
“Three—” I interrupt whatever she’s about to say. “—you’re going to shut up and listen to what I tell you while I fix this.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll go for a walk regardless.”
“I know, because I’ll drag you if I have to.”
The roll of her eyes is overdramatic with her huff, but when I lay her back, she doesn’t fight me. Seems like I’ve figured how to handle her and her tongue. However, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing as I cut a straight line up the front of her dress to her knees and then go about figuring out how to handle the rest.
“Charles is a shit human.” I won’t call him her father because he clearly doesn’t deserve the title biologically or any other way. “He let the monsters in on his watch because of his greed. And when it got out of control, instead of letting us take care of the problem, he came against us. He hurt people. Innocents.”
I stop talking because my voice is trembling with anger. At him and myself. He hurt innocents on my watch. My actions cost an unborn child its life.
I’m not sure how she puts it together, really, except for the fact that she’s a lot smarter and switched on than she makes out.
“He did it, didn’t he? Arabella’s baby?” Sitting up, she stares at me with a grave expression that makes me want to take back all the things I’ve told her. “That’s why Christopher wants me…and Freddie. He’d have a field day tearing me apart.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
Her eyes widen on mine with uncertainty.
“We’re never going to let that happen.” I help her to her feet, turning her away from me. “Honestly, I don’t believe they want to hurt you. They all said things they didn’t mean, and Casper can hold a grudge. Christopher wouldn’t hurt you. You’re family as far as he’s concerned.”
“But they still said those things. They threatened my life, and I won’t let them threaten hers. Because let’s be honest, a threat spoken aloud is a whim of the threat thought. I’m not risking her. She’s all that’s left of him in this world—she’s all I have.”
It angers me that she honestly believes she’s on her own.
“You’re not alone, and you have more than you think,” I tell her. “We’re going to fix your sling problem. I need you to lift your dress.”
“What?”
“If you lift your dress, we can use the cut-off from it as a support belt.”
“I can do it myself,” she whispers, spinning to face me.
“I’ve seen plenty of naked women. It’s not a novelty, and you’re not the first.”
Not that she’s naked under the dress. It’s a figure of speech. But still, the images going through my head aren’t exactly kosher.
“You won’t be the last either,” I add, reaching into my bag.
