Stolen Heir - Sophie Lark Page 0,74

a chance that this is the night they won’t come home.

An hour passes. Maybe more. Finally, I hear the tires rolling over the loose stones in the driveway.

I jump out of my bed, shoving aside the dusty canopy curtains.

I run down the stairs, my legs bare beneath the hem of my nightgown. Klara stocked the wardrobe and drawers with so many beautiful pieces of clothing. The nighties are the one thing that makes me laugh. They’re so old-fashioned, like something a little girl from the Victorian era would wear. I probably look like a ghost, running around this place.

When I’m halfway down the stairs, Mikolaj hears me. He turns around. I see long scratches running up his arms and across the back of his hands.

“What happened!” I gasp.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“Where did you go?” I’m about to touch his arm to examine the injuries, but I freeze in my tracks. The people most likely to have injured Mikolaj are my own family. Which means he might have done something awful to them in return.

My mouth hangs open, horrified.

Mikolaj sees it. He says, “No! I didn’t . . . it’s not . . .”

“Did you hurt someone I know?” I say, through numb lips.

“Well . . . not that . . .”

I’ve never seen Mikolaj stutter before. My stomach is rolling over. I think I’m going to be sick.

I turn away from him, but Mikolaj grabs my shoulders, pulling me back.

“Wait,” he says. “Let me explain.”

He pulls me out of the entryway, over to the conservatory.

He leads me through the thick greenery. It’s almost winter outside, but it’s still warm and humid in here, the air rich with oxygen and chlorophyll. He pulls me down on the little bench where he was sitting when I first woke up in his house.

“Look,” he says, “I didn’t kill anybody. I did hurt someone, but he fucking deserved it.”

“Who?” I demand.

“That director.”

“What?” I stare at him blankly for a second. This is so far outside what I expected him to say that I don’t connect the dots.

“He’s fine,” Mikolaj says. “I just broke his arm.”

A loose interpretation of the term “fine,” but much better than I feared.

“You broke Jackson Wright’s arm,” I say blankly.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a thieving shit,” Mikolaj says.

I’m dumbfounded.

Mikolaj broke Jackson’s arm . . . for me. It’s the strangest favor anybody’s ever done for me.

“I don’t want you to hurt people on my behalf,” I tell him.

“People like that don’t learn without consequences,” Mikolaj says.

I’m not sure a jerk like Jackson is going to learn either way. But I don’t care about him, not really. There’s a different kind of dread swirling around inside of me.

I’ve been completely cut off in Mikolaj’s house. No contact with anyone I know and love. I’ve assumed that nothing awful has happened while I was gone. But I don’t actually know if that’s true.

“What is it?” Mikolaj says.

His light blue eyes are fixed on my face, steady and clear.

It occurs to me that in all the time I’ve been here, Mikolaj has never lied to me. Not that I know of, anyway. He’s been harsh and aggressive at times. Hateful, even. But always honest.

“Miko,” I say. “Is my family okay? Have you hurt any of them?”

I can see the thoughts running through his head, as he decides whether to answer. His jaw flexes as he swallows. Then he says, “Yes. Jack Du Pont is dead.”

My stomach clenches up in a knot. Jack Du Pont is one of my brother’s closest associates. They went to school together. He’s worked at our house for years. He was my driver and bodyguard, and also a friend.

“Oh,” I say.

I can feel the tears sliding down my cheeks.

Mikolaj doesn’t apologize or look away. His gaze is steady.

“I’ve caused you pain,” he says.

“Is everyone else okay?” I ask him.

“Dante Gallo is in prison,” he says. “Otherwise, yes.”

I cover my face with my hands. My face is hot, and my hands are cool, by comparison.

Aida loves Dante the way that I love Callum. She must be freaking out right now.

My whole family will be. Because I’m still missing. And Jack is dead. And they know more is coming.

I raise my face out of my hands and I try to meet Mikolaj’s gaze with an equal level of composure.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask him.

When we first spoke in this room, he told me he was going to destroy everything I hold dear. I have to know if that’s still his plan. If