Page 79 of Auctioned to the Mafia Don
Close enough.
Dr. Bellini leaves after giving Omar more instructions and Stefano one of those looks older men reserve for younger men with too much power and not enough humility. I decide I like him even more for it.
When the door closes behind him, the room finally exhales.
Erin curls beside Heath carefully, rabbit tucked between them like a solemn third patient. Omar remains in the doorway, less hostile than usual and twice as watchful. Stefano stands near the window with his phone in one hand, already sending messages.
I should hate that.
The control. The efficiency. The way the house rearranges itself because he says so.
But Heath is asleep within twenty minutes. I sit with him until my own exhaustion starts pulling at the edges of the room. When I finally look up, Stefano is watching me.
“What?” I whisper.
“You came to me.”
I look away immediately. “I needed a phone.”
“You came to me,” he repeats.
I hate the warmth that crawls into my face.
“I needed help.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all.”
He walks closer, stopping at the edge of the bed. Not touching me. Not touching Heath. Just near enough that I feel him there.
“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “you chose correctly.”
I look up at him then.
“I didn’t have another choice,” I say.
His eyes hold mine. “No. But you still had to make it.”
I have no answer for that.
On the bed, Heath shifts, his hand tightening faintly around mine.
Stefano notices.
So do I.
For once, neither of us says anything.
Chapter Eleven
Stefano
Maya falls asleep with Heath’s hand in hers.
She does it sitting upright on the edge of the bed, one shoulder braced against the headboard, head tipped at an angle that will punish her neck when she wakes. Her hair has slipped forward over one cheek. Her shoes are somewhere beneath the chair. One hand rests lightly over Heath’s, fingers loose now that sleep has finally taken her, but still close enough that the boy can find her if he wakes.
He doesn't.
