Truth (Betrothed #10) - Penelope Sky Page 0,60

would she live there alone when she had me? She would live here with me, whether she was my wife or not.

When I walked into the bedroom, she already had her things in my closet. She moved my clothes to the other side, getting them out of the way so she would have room. Leaning on one of her crutches, she hung up another shirt before she noticed me.

She turned around, looking slightly guilty. “I hope you don’t mind…”

“Not at all.” She could throw all my clothes on the floor and take up every inch, and it wouldn’t make a difference to me. I walked into the closet and wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her and balancing her on one foot. “I was going to make dinner. Any requests?”

“No. I like anything you make.” Her hands planted against my neck, her fingers reaching up to my face as she rested her face close to mine, her eyes looking me over like she couldn’t believe I was hers, couldn’t believe how much she loved me.

I never thought a woman like her would want me, not when she could have any guy she wanted. But she went against her brother’s wishes to be with me, accepted the danger my title caused without blinking, chose to be with me even though I led an underground army of criminals.

That kind of love was unconditional.

Unstoppable.

I pulled her closer and kissed her, tugging hard because I wanted to hold her so close that she was practically inside me, her heart beating right directly next to mine, pumping together. I wanted more of her than I could have, wanted the kind of closeness that simply wasn’t possible on the planes of our physical existence. Maybe that wouldn’t happen until we shed our bodies and traveled as two spirits.

When I pulled away, I pressed my lips to her forehead and kissed her, kissed her in a way I’d never kissed another woman. It wasn’t sexual, possessive, or lustful. It was adoration, the best way I could worship her, express the depth of my love in an unquestionable way.

Her first session of physical therapy wasn’t easy.

She struggled, grew so frustrated that tears were in her eyes. She pushed herself further than she could handle, wincing in pain because she was trying to force something that just wasn’t meant to be—yet.

When we got into the truck, tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Baby—”

“I’m never going to be able to dance again.” She closed her eyes and covered her face, like she didn’t want me to see her break down.

I kept my voice gentle, reminding myself that I couldn’t hammer into her without empathy, that I couldn’t give her the tough love I naturally wanted to respond with. “Baby.” I grabbed her hand and pulled it from her face.

She twisted out of my grasp and covered her face again.

So, I decided to try to talk to her. “Baby, that’s not going to happen—”

“I could barely do anything he told me—”

“It’s your first day.” It hurt to see her like this, to watch her break down with hopelessness. “You know what my first day was like?”

She stopped sobbing, as if she wanted to listen.

“It was rough, Catalina. Really rough.”

She sniffed and dropped her hands.

“I never told you that because it’s not me—to complain. But it was really hard. I was scared I would never be me again. But I did it. And if I can do that, you can do this. You think a broken ankle is gonna stop a powerhouse like you?”

She’d stopped sobbing, but leftover tears streaked down her cheeks.

“Nothing is gonna stop you, Catalina. It’s gonna take a few weeks, but you’re going to get there. And you’re going to dominate that stage just like you used to. No one is gonna give a damn about your understudy. She didn’t get the part in the first place for a reason—because you’re better. Much better.”

She wiped her fingers over her cheeks, her mascara running.

“You’re gonna get there. I promise.”

“How can you promise that?” She finally stopped crying. She sighed and looked out the window.

I grabbed her chin with my fingertips and forced her to look at me. “Because it’s you.”

I called in every favor.

No one had seen him.

No one had heard from him.

My men were combing the streets, questioning everyone, doing everything they could to track him down.

Nothing.

I tried to convince myself that he simply took off to save his own ass, that he took his friends so they could