Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,99

him all the same.

His bed is a jumble of pillows and blankets. It’s hard to spot him, in all the mess. I open the door a little wider.

I don’t see his curls, or his long legs hanging out from under the blanket.

Heart in my mouth, I step all the way into the room and stride over to the bed. I pull the blanket back.

Empty. The bed is empty.

I try to hold back the panic, but it’s impossible. I run wildly through the little suite, checking my room, the bathroom, and the couch in the sitting room, in case he fell asleep somewhere odd.

Losing all control I yell, “HENRY!” several times.

My father comes into the suite, looking around in confusion.

“Simone, what—”

“Where is he? Did he come back into your suite?”

It takes too long, way too long, for my parents to understand. My mother keeps saying we should check all the rooms, even though I tell her I’ve already done that. My father says, “Maybe he was hungry? He might have gone downstairs looking for food?

“Call the front desk!” I shout at them. “Call the police!”

I run down the hall to Carly’s room, pounding on her door. Then I remember I gave her the night off—she probably went out for dinner, or to see a movie.

I try to call her just in case. No answer.

I run to the ice machine, the stairwell, the elevators. I sprint down to the main lobby, and check the commissary like my father suggested, praying I’ll find Henry perusing the chocolate bars and chips. He does love sweets.

The only person in the commissary is an exhausted-looking businessman, trying to make an unenthusiastic choice between a banana and an apple.

“Have you seen a boy?” I ask him. “Nine years old? Curly hair? Wearing pajamas?”

The businessman shakes his head, startled by my wild shouting.

I run all the way outside the hotel and I look up and down the busy city street, wondering if Henry would have come out here. He knows he’s not allowed to wander around by himself, especially not at night. But if he was angry that I didn’t bring him along to see Dante . . .

I hesitate on the corner, next to a white painter’s van.

Is that what happened? Did Henry come downstairs to try to get another look at his father? Did he follow us . . . maybe all the way to the park?

The back of the painter’s van opens up.

I step aside to get out of the way, still dazed and looking in the direction of the park. Wondering if I should run over there, or if I should call Dante instead.

At that moment, a cloth bag drops over my head. It’s so sudden that I don’t understand what’s happening—I rip and pull at the cloth, trying to tear it off my face. Meanwhile, arms close around me, and I’m lifted off my feet. I shriek and struggle but it’s no use. In two seconds, I’ve been tossed in the back of the van.

36

Dante

I’ve never been blindsided like that in my life.

Simone’s confession was a 400 lbs linebacker, flattening me out of nowhere. I feel like I’m lying on the turf, gasping for breath, my whole head exploding.

Never, not for a second, did I think Simone might be pregnant with my child. We only had unprotected sex that one time at the museum. She was a virgin—I didn’t even consider it.

But now that the idea is in my head, so many things are falling into place.

How she got sick those last few weeks we were together. How she seemed increasingly anxious about my job. How she demanded to meet up that night, and her horror when I arrived, bruised and bloodied and reeking of gasoline . . .

She was going to tell me that I was about to be a father. And then I showed up looking like the least fatherly person on the planet. Like the last man you’d ever want around your child.

I understand now.

I understand . . . but I’m not okay with it. Not one fucking bit.

She flew across the Atlantic. She disappeared out of my life without another word. She carried my baby for nine months, gave birth, and then RAISED MY FUCKING SON WITHOUT EVER TELLING ME HE EXISTED!

I’m so angry at her that I can’t even think about it without going into a blackout state.

When Simone ran away from me in the park, I didn’t try to chase her. I knew it was better for