Eva clearly doesn’t believe her, but she nods, glancing down at her mostly untouched plate. “I think I should go home. Now that you’re all right.”
“I think not,” I tell her. My back throbs this morning. Too dull to be excruciating, too painful to ignore. “You’re staying until I’ve gone over your security teams. You need another layer until Caroline’s under control.”
My sister makes a show of looking around the dining room, but her shoulders have let down. “I don’t see Lucian here. Why didn’t you make him stay?”
“I’m not worried about Lucian. But if you’re worrying about a lack of company, don’t. Daphne is on her way.”
If she’s not in the car now, she will be as soon as she’s up. I don’t know what kind of hours she keeps with her art, and I don’t particularly care. What I want is to have her where I can see her. Not in some studio apartment that’s more difficult to defend than my home.
I ignore the thought that Haley was taken from this place and not Daphne’s studio apartment.
“Good,” Eva says. I didn’t expect an argument from her, but I did expect protesting. My sister likes to think she’s outgrown a need to be protected. She is mistaken. The enemy is not our father anymore. It’s many more people who are enough like our father that they present a threat on the level of the Constantines.
I don’t tell her about the worry that dogs me when it comes to security, that follows me now. Especially now that Lucian and I have gone into Caroline’s house to retrieve Haley. Especially now that I’ve left evidence of my visit on her sons’ faces.
We’ve moved to the den by the time Daphne arrives. Eva has gone upstairs to rest. I tried to make Haley rest too, but she wanted the den. Now she’s under a blanket on the sofa and I’m at the window, looking out on the snow-covered courtyard. The alert that Daphne’s here comes through on my phone, and a few minutes later, Daphne follows it.
She comes in like a wave moving quickly over sand. A beeline to where I’m standing, and I bend to angle her arms around my neck. It’s never been more imperative that everything stays the fuck away from my back. Even with Haley in sight, I’m a human tripwire.
“Oh my god, Leo, you can’t just summon me here,” Daphne says as she releases me. “I’m fine. You could have texted me to ask if I was fine.”
I steer her to the couch by her shoulders. Daphne sits, and watches me as I take the opposite seat. Haley closes her book and sits up. “Hey, Daphne.”
Daphne searches Haley’s face, her artist’s eyes taking everything in. “Something happened.”
“Caroline sent one of her people here.”
My sister’s mouth drops open. “Did they come inside?”
“No. They didn’t have to. Caroline’s people put together a plan to cause a diversion and distract my security while Haley went out to meet her brother.” It’s a true effort to speak about this without snarling. Without standing up, finding the nearest guard, and beating the fuck out of him. “They took her when she stepped outside the gates.”
Daphne pales. Her head swivels to Haley. “Took you where?”
“Caroline’s house.”
Her brow furrows, and Daphne twists her fingers together in her lap. “I don’t understand.” This is why I brought her here. Now. This morning. Because she doesn’t understand. I’ve worked so fucking hard to let her have her innocence that it’s made her an easy target. “Caroline’s your family. She sent someone to kidnap you?”
“Yes.”
It sinks in for her then, what kind of family the Constantines are. Daphne’s expression turns utterly serious. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Haley says.
“Don’t lie,” I tell her. Her blue eyes meet mine with a silent plea.
“I’m not lying.”
“Don’t. Lie.”
The tension draws tight between us. I want to kneel down at her place on the sofa but I don’t trust myself not to drag her upstairs by her hair and push her over the bed. I need it.
Haley takes a deep breath, then looks back at Daphne. “It’s complicated,” she says, and understanding passes over Daphne’s face like she’s heard Haley say this before. She probably has. They’ve had more than one conversation without me. “Nobody hit me. But it was still—” She shakes her head.
“I’m sorry.” Daphne reaches for her hand. Squeezes it. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Haley. I don’t—I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” This, from Haley, on a breath. Practically soundless.
“It’s not,” I say. “That’s why you’re here.” Daphne’s eyes snap to mine. “It’s not safe for you. For any of us.”
“I’m perfectly safe.” Spots of color bloom high on Daphne’s cheeks. “Nobody’s messing with me. Nobody even really knows I’m a Morelli, because I’m not—” She’s about to say not like you. “I’m not open about it. Nobody’s even been in my apartment at all, except—”
Except.
All my cells are on alert. Every muscle. It’s the way I used to feel when I saw my father’s car pull into the driveway at the end of the day. “Except?” I demand.
Daphne sighs. “Except for one person.”
“Except for one man.”
The deepening red of her face tells me all I need to know.
“Nothing happened,” Daphne insists, letting go of Haley’s hand.
“Bullshit. Explain.”
Daphne bites her lip and lifts a hand to pull her hair back over her shoulder. A sidelong glance at Haley. “I wasn’t even there. He just left something for me. A gift.”
The words tick down like the timer on a bomb, and unadulterated rage bursts heavy onto my skin. It feels made of glass, made of molten glass, and every breath I take becomes an excruciating exercise in control.
I have never let Daphne see me at my worst. Never. I’ve carried her in my arms to get her away from the sight, to keep her away from the knowledge. She can’t know how close this animal is to the surface. How, if Haley wasn’t here, I would get up from my seat and go hunting.
Haley is not Daphne. She and my sister might have had a similar innocence to begin with, but for one key difference—I happened to Haley. So Haley knows what she’s looking at now. She feels it. Daphne is wide-eyed and red-faced. She doesn’t know what I am.
“You have,” I begin, and it takes everything I have to keep my voice even. “A fucking stalker.”
Daphne’s hand goes to her collar. “No! No. He just—he likes my paintings. He buys a lot of them. You know. Like a collector.”
“He wants to collect your body in his fucking basement, Daphne. He doesn’t want your paintings. Men don’t want your art. They’re all sick fucks who want to use you for their own purposes. They’ll discard you when they’re finished, if they haven’t murdered you first.”
She lifts her chin, jaw tightening. “Oh? Like you’re going to do to Haley?”
My entire soul recoils, hissing, feral, disgusted. “No,” I snap at her, and Daphne flinches. I barely manage to get a handle on my tone even through the pang of regret. “Not like me with Haley.”