“I can’t let you leave until we know more. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
I don’t know how else to say it. How many times do I have to prove that I’m trying to protect her, myself, and Isla, too?
“So you’re going to hold me here against my will?” Her eyes narrow and there’s so much anger there, but I can see some pain as well. “I just have to stay here in Scotland with you until you tire of me and decide to send me back home? What if I don’t like being your plaything, Keir?”
She’s saying it like it’s a bad thing. I’ve gone above and beyond to make sure that she has every luxury and accommodation in the world at her fingertips. Is she really so miserable here?
I have to keep reminding myself that she’s been through a lot the past few days. I need to be patient and understanding and—fuck it.
I reach for her and pull her close before I can even think about stopping myself. If I can’t get through to her with my words—and that clearly isn’t happening—then I have to find another way to show her how I feel.
A tiny, surprised sound escapes her throat as I lean in, but she doesn’t try to back away when my mouth finds hers. She opens her mouth to me just as my hands skim up the back of her shirt, and I’m not sure which is softer—her plush lips or her silky, smooth skin.
Fuck, I need her now.
“I want you, sweetheart,” I grit out, echoing my own thoughts. “I need to feel you come apart while my cock sinks deep inside you, again and again.”
Ella gasps, her hips convulsing. I grind against her, my eyes steady on her face. I need her to say that she isn’t going to leave. She needs me as much as I need her.
“I—”
Whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind us.
“What are you guys doing out here?” a little voice asks.
Ella practically leaps out of my arms and puts space between our bodies.
I look back over my shoulder without fully turning around while I adjust myself and give Ella a few extra seconds to straighten her clothes.
“Hey, sunshine.” Pretty sure I sound guilty as hell. “You’re up early. How did you sleep?”
Isla rubs her eyes, giving me and Ella a suspicious look. My daughter is too smart for her own good sometimes. “Fine, I guess. Can I have some cereal?”
Ella pushes past me and sweeps Isla up into her arms before I can answer. “Of course you can. I’ll make some for both of us.”
“Okay,” she nods, smiling. Thank god kids have a special knack for moving on without asking too many questions whenever there’s food involved. “Thanks, Ella.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, my hands already missing the feel of Ella’s body. “Thanks, Ella. We’ll talk more later.”
She gives me a hard look over the top of Isla’s head.
“We will.” Before she turns to go back inside, she mouths, “We need to talk about Kinsley, too.”
I blink, hoping I’ve misread her lips. Pretty sure I didn’t, though.
My stomach sinks as Ella carries my daughter inside. Just when I think we’re getting back to a good place, now she wants to talk about my ex?
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLA
Isla has been attached to my hip all day, making it almost impossible to find time to talk about Kinsley with Keir. It doesn’t help that he’s been avoiding me like the plague ever since I mentioned her name.
The more time I spend lost in my thoughts about Keir and his family, the more I start to miss mine. Journaling isn’t even helping anymore. I write and write to get my feelings down on paper and out of my head, but I’m still stopping every five minutes to look at the tattered, faded picture of my family that I’ve tucked away in the back of my diary.
“Don’t you love this cartoon, Ella?” Isla glances over from her spot next to me on the couch, giving the journal in my hands a pointed look. “You’ve been watching, right?”
Yep, I’ve been caught red-handed.
“Of course,” I use the photo to mark my place, then close my diary and offer my best smile. “I used to watch this show when I was a kid.”
A tiny line appears in her forehead as she looks up at me. “They had cartoons when you were a kid?”
I snort out a laugh even though I should probably be slightly offended. “Try not to look so shocked. I’m not that old.”
“Hm.” She looks like she might have more to say, but turns back to her show instead.
Kids.
At least I never have to wonder what she’s thinking, unlike her father. And at least she’s kind and adorable and super sweet almost all the time… unlike her father.
I instantly feel a pang of guilt at that thought. Maybe he isn’t that bad. But it’s hard not to be irritated with him when I feel like he still hasn’t learned from the craziness in Italy.
Even after Isla and I almost died. Even after my shoulder—which is currently sporting one of the ugliest bruises I’ve ever seen—got dislocated and had to be popped back into place by a doctor whose bedside manner was seriously lacking.
After all of that, he still doesn’t seem to give a damn about what I think or say. It’s maddening and now I’m getting pissed off about it all over again.
A female voice from the foyer filters into the room over the sound of the cartoon. It makes little Isla jump into my lap.
“It’s okay, honey.” I try to calm her as the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand up.
I’m triggered by the sound. But I also got triggered by the shadows in the bathroom this morning, so I can’t exactly rely on my instincts. I know it’s just my own irrational fear, but the memory of being pushed off the side of the Colosseum is still fresh in my mind.
Still… the frightened, trembling little girl in my arms obviously feels the same way. Her demeanor completely changes when a familiar face appears in the entryway, though.
“Aunt Saffron!” Isla squeals and jumps up from my lap, flinging herself at Keir’s sister.
Saffron beams at Isla, tossing a curtain of dark, shiny tresses over her shoulder. She’s dressed impeccably, in a light pink sheath dress and a dark pair of heels. Matching pearls gleam at her throat and ears.
She is clearly on her way to or from somewhere terribly important.
“Hi there, munchkin,” Saffron scoops Isla up and spins her around before setting the giggling child back down on her feet. “I’ve missed you. What have you been up to?” She shoots me a sympathetic look. “Staying out of trouble, I hope.”
“Mostly,” I answer.
Isla starts recounting the crazy ups and downs of the past few days. Saffron listens attentively to her for a full two minutes before Isla winds down.
I interject. “We’ve all just been trying to relax a little now that we’re back from Italy.”
She puts Isla down, but the little girl follows her closely, watching her with wary eyes. For a moment, I wonder if that’s what Isla and I have looked like for the past couple of days. Isla has been way more clingy and needy than usual, barely giving me a moment to myself.