I Thee Take (To Have And To Hold Duet #2) - Natasha Knight Page 0,78
His big hand cradles the back of my head. “That’s my Fury.”
“Not Little Kitten anymore?”
He draws back, looks down at me, dips his head to kiss me. “Both. You’re strong when you need to be and soft when you want to be.” He pulls me in for a hug again and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Tell me about the promise she extracted from Felix and Petrov.”
“Petrov offered her a gift and she asked that the gift be my safety. He twisted the words around though after he promised I wouldn’t be hurt. Felix, too, twisted the words. But when they left, she didn’t seem beaten. I think she felt good about having done something to help me. Or thinking she had. Felix knew she wasn’t Elizabeth and I know she knows the truth, too. Maybe they sold her to Petrov as Elizabeth Grigori?”
“She’d have been more valuable.”
I told him what David told me on the helicopter. That David had arranged for Elizabeth to be kidnapped and sold once she was older. And he told me what David had told them about his mother. About how David suggested his mother had accused him of raping her.
The massacre was his vengeance for her having chosen Cristiano’s father over him. For her not loving him back. I wonder if punishing her daughter like he planned to, kidnapping and selling her, if that was also to punish Cristiano’s mother or if it was simple economics. Money. Why waste a warm body?
He also told me about Dante, about him possibly being a product of rape. He’s already sent DNA to a lab for a paternity test. We’re waiting on the results.
“Petrov has disappeared. Charlie thinks he’d arranged the explosives to detonate after he left.” I’d assumed the explosions were from Cristiano’s men, a distraction, but this makes much more sense.
“Why would he have done that?”
Cristiano shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe he knew Felix and his fondness for cameras? Maybe he just hated the assholes present? Who knows? Who cares?”
“Who is he?”
“Russian businessman. That’s all I’ve been able to get so far. But I’ll find him.”
“We will find him,” says a low, raspy voice from the bed.
I gasp, turn my head. Cristiano is beside the bed in an instant.
“Brother!”
A doctor and two nurses rush in. They must have been alerted by the machines to Dante’s waking.
“Well, it’s good to see you’re awake, Mr. Grigori,” the doctor says, smiling.
“I’d have opened my eyes earlier but these two were declaring their undying love and I thought I might puke.”
We all smile even though I know they all hear the effort it’s taking Dante. Even though we all see the extent of the damage.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Cristiano says but there’s an edge to his voice, relief but not quite. Dante isn’t out of the woods just yet.
The doctor takes a few minutes looking him over and the nurse adjusts his bed so he’s sitting up a little. I can see it’s painful.
I see his eyes move to me through the holes in the bandages around his head. “Are you okay?”
“I’m in better shape than you.”
It’s quiet. “How bad?” he asks.
“You’re alive. We’ll deal with the rest,” Cristiano says. “You step between me and a bullet ever again I will fucking kill you myself, do you understand me?”
“You’re welcome,” Dante says with what I think is a strained chuckle.
“Thank you but don’t do it again.”
“Mara?”
“She’s alive. That’s more than we had a few days ago. Like you said, we’ll find her. You get yourself healed and out of here and we’ll go get her.”
“She must be terrified. All these years she’s been out there on her own,” Dante says.
“I was telling your brother that she’s strong. Tough.” I leave everything else out.
He nods. “Felix?” he asks Cristiano.
“Back to his hole.”
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”
“You’re going to have to get in line. And you’re going to have to get out of here first.”
“I want to go home, Brother.” He glances out the window at the gray sky, the rain streaking the glass. “This place doesn’t agree with me.”
“As soon as the doctor gives you the okay, we leave. I’ve already arranged for doctors—”
“How bad?” Dante asks.
“You’ve got your arms and legs, you’re fucking alive.”
He moves an arm, fingers touching the bandages wrapped around his head. “What do I look like?”
“I don’t have a mirror,” Cristiano lies. He’d made the nurse take out the single mirror