Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Sabella

I'm excited when Angelo drops me off at home in the evening. I missed Sophie. She wormed herself into my heart in a very short space of time. She's a sweet, innocent, clever little girl. It's impossible not to fall madly in love with her.

My possessions arrived from South Africa while we were gone. Heidi informs me that she took the liberty of unpacking the boxes, which contained my clothes, books, and a few ornaments. My laptop didn't turn up. My husband confiscated it. Obviously.

Ryan sends the photos he promised, which Angelo shows me while Heidi makes tea. Brad already grew so much I hardly recognize him. He has thicker blond curls and a dimple in his chubby chin. The older he gets, the more he looks like Ryan. Benjamin Jnr. takes more after Mattie than Jared. With his dark hair and olive skin, he's just as gorgeous as his mom. Missing out on seeing them grow up makes me sad, but that's the price I'm paying to keep the rest of my family safe.

After Sophie bombarded us with hugs and stories of her weekend, she introduces us to a row of gingerbread men and women. She named the lot of them, and I'm stunned that she's not only able to remember so many names but that she also correctly pairs each name with the corresponding cookie character.

While Heidi goes upstairs to pack her bag, my husband spends time with Sophie, listening to her excited chatter. When it's time for Angelo and Heidi to leave, he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. My cheeks heat a little, knowing Sophie and Heidi are watching. I'm not sure what to make of the caress, but like the sex this weekend, it's different.

Sophie and I eat a light dinner, and then I put her to bed. I enjoyed being among people. I especially loved the chat with Mrs. Powell. Being without adult company takes getting used to again. To distract myself, I go through the dressing room and get reacquainted with my own clothes. To my surprise, the closets are also filled with new outfits, the price tags still intact. Most of the labels are from Milan. The wardrobe includes day and evening dresses, comfy sweaters and cotton leggings, lingerie in every color under the sun, exercise gear, and enough shoes to fill a store.

I try on a few items, which all fit perfectly. I no doubt have my husband to thank, but I'm sure Fabien took care of the shopping.

I go to bed with my notebook on sharks, highlighting notes Mrs. Powell may find useful, but I'm so exhausted from the weekend marathon sex that I fall asleep before I've read two pages. The next thing I know, Sophie is shaking me awake.

"What's the matter?" I ask, jackknifing into a sitting position.

"The sun is out." She runs to the window and yanks the curtains open. "Look. Let's go outside for a walk."

Yawning, I swing my legs over the bed. Every muscle aches. I swear I still feel him inside me.

"Breakfast first," I say, but she's already skipping from the room.

I dress quickly and do my grooming before joining Sophie in the kitchen. She's sitting at the table with a carton of milk open on the side, shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.

I switch on the coffee machine. "You do know that eggs and fruit have more healthy nutrients than all that fiber and sugar?"

"I like cereal," she says around the spoon.

"We don't speak with a full mouth." I take a mug from the cupboard. "It's not good table manners."

She swallows and sticks out her tongue to show me her empty mouth. "I have good table manners."

"Yes, sweetheart." I smooth a hand over her hair as I set the mug on the table. "You do."

When we finished our breakfast, Sophie pulls on her brand-new coat while I fit mine, and then we take Beatrice for a walk. We stop near the cliff to admire the view.

"Don't go too close," I say, holding her back with a hand on her arm. "There may be loose rocks. It can be dangerous."

She picks up pebbles and hurls them over the cliff. "Look how far I can throw, Sabella."

The rustling of the bushes on the border of the yard pulls my attention. A shadow moves between the trees. Can it be an animal? The property is so remote, there must be wildlife like rabbits and small deer.

Worried that it may be a boar, I take Sophie's hand. "Let's go back to the house."

She pulls free and picks Beatrice up from where she left the doll sitting against a rock. "Don't be scared of the noise in the forest, Sabella."

I look at her. "Did you hear it too?"

"It's only Johan."

"Johan?"

"My brother," she says as if I should've known.

"Your brother?" I ask with surprise.

Clutching Beatrice in one hand, she selects a pebble from the small heap at her feet and throws it over the cliff. "I saw him through the window."

I glance at the forest again, but it's quiet now. "When?" Fixing my attention on Sophie, I ask, "Did you see him this morning?"

"Yesterday." She aims and projects another stone through the air. "He was sneaking around the yard."

"Why didn't you tell Heidi?"

She shrugs. "They're always sneaking around."

"Why didn't he come to the house?"

"Because he's careful. You never know. Maybe he thinks you'll chase him away."

"Why would I do that?"

"People always chase us away."

I take her shoulders and turn her to face me. "If you take people's property or break it, they will want to chase you away. If you're kind and respectful, they'll be more inclined to be welcoming. Do you understand?"

She bobs her head. "You don't want me to take people's stuff and break their flowers."

"Exactly." I hold out my hand. "Come on. Let's go check what we can make for lunch."

We decide on grilled chicken and baked potatoes. While the chicken grills in the oven, we mix cake batter. When the food is ready, I set the table on the veranda in the sun. It doesn't take long for a scruffy boy with a dirty face to emerge from the woods.

He's not dressed in rags, but his clothes have seen better days. I judge him to be about four years older than Sophie. I pretend not to see him as he slowly creeps closer.

"Sabella," Sophie whispers, leaning over the table.

"I know," I whisper back.

It's not until I carve the chicken that he finally walks up with a straight back and his arms standing away from his body.

"Hey," he says in a brusque manner, stopping at the rail.

I acknowledge him with a smile. "Hey."

He points at the chicken. "Give me that food."

"Are you hungry?"

He fixes his gaze on the chicken, almost salivating as he nods.

"Then you can join us at the table when you've washed up," I say.

He glares at me. "Why will I do that?"

"We wash our hands before we eat, Johan," Sophie says, swinging her legs.

"I never wash my hands to eat," he grunts.

"That's the rule," I say. "You can use the bathroom inside."

Stomping to the garden tap, he opens it and scrubs his hands. He shakes off drops of water as he returns. "There. Happy?"

It's a start. "Sit down."

He watches me with wary eyes as he climbs the steps and scrapes a chair over the floor. Throwing himself in the seat, he says, "Give me some chicken now."

"The magic word is please."

"Please," he snaps.

I dish up a big portion of chicken and potatoes on his plate. "My name is Sabella."

He grabs his fork in a fist and mutters, "Johan."

"Are your brothers around too?"

He stabs a potato and stuffs it in his mouth. "Somewhere."

"We don't speak with a full mouth," Sophie says.

He sneers. "What do you know?"

"She's right," I say. "At my table, you don't."

Rolling his eyes, he shoves a big chunk of chicken into his mouth next. He eats as if he hasn't eaten in days. I let him eat in peace, knowing he must be starving.

Sophie says proudly, "Heidi showed me how to hold a fork and knife properly. Look."

"Who the fuck is Heidi?" he asks around another mouthful of chicken.

"No swearing," I say. "When you've swallowed, you can ask again, and Sophie will answer your question."

He scoffs but swallows before asking, "So, are you going to tell me or not?"

"She's a really nice lady who cooks for Angelo," Sophie says in her serious voice. "She's going to take care of me when Sabella has to go away with Angelo, but only for short whiles."

He chugs down a glass of water. "You're staying here now?" He points the fork at me. "With her?"

"Yes." Sophie adds salt to her potatoes. "She's very nice too. She's Angelo's wife."

He squints at me. "That true?"

"Is that true? Yes," I say. "I'm Mr. Russo's wife."

He waves the fork at his sister. "That she's staying here."

"Don't point at people with your eating utensils," I say. "That's bad table manners too."

"What the fu—" He catches himself. "What's with all the manners?"

"Like I said, these are the rules in my house."

"This your house now?" He lifts his fork to indicate the house but stops midway.

"Is this my house now?" I correct. "I live here now, yes."

"Ha." He sucks a piece of chicken from his teeth, watching me as he drinks more water. "You cleaned up the place all nice."

"Why did you make such a mess of it in the first place, if I may ask?"

Engrossed in eating, Sophie doesn't seem to pay attention to our exchange.

"There was nobody to clean it." He shrugs. "The cook got scared." He takes another bite of potato and makes a show of swallowing before adding, "She left. After that, Grandpa didn't care if the goats got in the house." He reaches across the table for another piece of chicken with his hand.

"We don't use our hands," I say. "We use the serving fork and spoon. Would you like seconds, or do you want to save space for dessert?"

He grumbles but pulls back his hand. "Seconds."

"Excuse me?"

Rolling his eyes again, he says, "Please."

I serve another helping on his plate. "Now you say thank you."

"Thank you," he says, making a face.

When his plate is empty, I ask, "Sophie, will you please bring the cake?"

She pushes back her chair and jumps to her feet. "It's chocolate, Johan, with frosting."

He assesses me when she's gone. "Why do you let her stay here?"

The question catches me by surprise. "I like her. Plus, she's a minor, and she needs an adult to take care of her."

He snorts. "I took care of her."

"You did." My heart softens. "I'm sure you did the best you could, but you're a minor too. You also need someone to take care of you."

His voice hardens. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can survive on your own, but that's not the care I'm talking about."

"What then?"

"You need someone to provide warm meals every day and healthcare when you need it, an adult who can take care of your education and teach you good values."

Most of all, he needs love and affection, but I don't say that. One, I don't want to hurt him by implying no one loves him because I'm certain that's not true. His brothers and his sister must love him. I can't speak for his great-grandfather, but who am I to judge when I know nothing about their dynamic? In his own way, Angelo also cares. And two, Johan's exaggerated macho behavior gives me reason to think he wouldn't want to talk about love.

Just as Sophie exits the kitchen with the cake, a car pulls up in the road. A Jaguar.

Johan's thin shoulders go rigid. He grabs his knife in a fist.

"It's only Mr. Russo," I say, leaning across the table to lay a hand on his arm.

"I know who it is," he grumbles as he puts down the knife and pulls away from my touch.

Sophie leaves the cake on the table and rushes around the veranda. "Angelo!"

The car comes to a stop at the end of the road. There's no fence around the yard and no gate to give access to the property. For a silly moment, I imagine a picket fence to mark the border of the garden and a gate to make the wilderness of the setting seem more homely. I must be going either crazy or soft.

My husband gets out of the car. His big body is broader than when I first met him. He's packed on muscles over the years. Dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a dark sweater, he looks mouthwateringly sexy. I can't help but stare. His beauty has always been undeniable, his attraction irresistible, however wrong that may be in our circumstances.

Our gazes lock. He gives me a private, heated smile, knowledge sparking in his dark eyes. He knows what he does to me. But then Sophie runs down the path and jumps into his arms, and he looks away as he gives her his attention.

Her young voice carries across the yard. "We made chicken, and I helped Sabella bake a chocolate cake."

His smile is amused. "Is that so?"

"Did you come for dessert?" she asks, tightening her little arms around his neck.

"Is there enough?"

"Oh, yes." She nods with enthusiasm. "It's a big cake."

"In that case, I'll definitely join you."

He looks at Johan over her head as he carries her down the path, caution creeping into his features. At the bottom of the steps, he puts her on her feet.

Johan watches Angelo like a wild animal assessing a situation for danger as my husband approaches with Sophie in tow.

"Hello, Johan," Angelo says, acting as if finding him here having lunch with us is an everyday occurrence.

"Uncle Angelo," Johan says, his tone challenging.

Angelo walks around the table and presses a kiss on the top of my head. "Sabella."

Not knowing what to make of the caress, I clear my throat. "This is a surprise." He's never visited during the day before.

"I'll get another plate," Sophie says with much excitement before running to the door.

Angelo takes a seat next to me. "How are your brothers, Johan?"

"Good, I guess." Johan slouches in his chair and spreads his legs. "They were okay the last time I saw them."

"Sit up straight, please," I say. "No lounging at the table."

He makes a face. "Another rule?"

"You don't want to give people the impression you don't have manners."

He mutters a protest but straightens in his seat.

"How did you get here?" Angelo asks.

Johan smirks. "Same way we got to the camp."

"Hitchhiking is dangerous," Angelo says. "You shouldn't trust random drivers."

"I'm here, ain't I?"

Angelo's tone turns sterner. "No more hitchhiking."

The line of Johan's jaw grows hard. "You can't tell me what to do."

"In fact, I can." Angelo folds his hands on the table. "Your great-grandfather gave me custody."

Johan jumps to his feet. "He did not."

Angelo's gaze is level. "He did. The paperwork has just been completed. As of yesterday, I'm your legal guardian."

The boy's eyes glimmer with suppressed tears. "You're a fucking liar."

Angelo clenches his hands into fists. "Do not take that tone with me, boy, and you better watch your tongue."

I get up quickly and go around the table. "Sit down, Johan." I put a hand on his shoulder and gently push him back into his seat. "We're all going to have dessert, and then you can talk about this calmly."

They hold each other's gaze in a stare-off across the table until Sophie returns with another plate and a cake fork that she sets in front of Angelo.

"Did you see the frosting, Angelo? That's the best part."

I cut thick slices of cake for everyone.

"You know as well as I do that you can't carry on living with your great-grandfather," Angelo says carefully when Johan digs into his cake.

He stops chewing and casts his gaze down.

Angelo continues in a reasonable tone, "I'm still looking for your parents. When I find them, we can talk about your living arrangements, but in the meantime, I want you to live with me."

"Why?" Johan bites out, lifting a rebellious gaze to Angelo.

"Because you're family."

Johan stills at that.

"You're my uncle," Sophie says with pride.

"I am." Angelo smiles at her and returns his attention to Johan. "You can make this difficult or you can let me help to take care of you. The choice is yours. Either way, you're not going back to that camp, and you're not running wild in the open any longer. It's not safe or what's best for you."

"How do you know what's best for me?" Johan asks with a bitter expression.

"I know what's not good for you. How about we take this one day at a time and figure it out as we go? Aren't you tired of being cold and hungry, of having nowhere to sleep at night?"

"It's really nice here with Sabella, Johan," Sophie says, laying her small hand on his. "Beatrice loves it."

Sniffing, he shoots her a sidelong glance. "I s'pose we can give it a try."

"That's my man," Angelo says, picking up his cake fork. "What I can promise you is that I only want you to be happy."

"Why?" Johan asks. "Why do you give a fu—a flying fish about what happens to us?"

"Seeing you safe would've made my mother happy," Angelo says with so much conviction I don't doubt his intentions for a minute. "Now finish that cake. I want to go look for your brothers before dark."

Johan eats three slices before he leans back and rubs his stomach. "I'm as stuffed as a pig."

"Saying that you've had enough will do, thank you very much," I say, clearing the plates.

"Yum." Sophie licks icing off her spoon. "That was sooo good. Wasn't it, Johan?"

He only grunts.

"I'll wrap up the rest of the food and the cake for your brothers," I say. "Please help me take the dirty dishes to the kitchen."

Sophie takes two of the empty dishes, eager to please me, but Johan doesn't budge.

"You heard her," Angelo says. "Everyone eats, everyone helps."

"Oh, for fu—" Johan swallows the rest of his words and pushes to his feet.

"You can take the casserole dish," I say. "It's too heavy for Sophie."

He grabs the dish and drags his feet after Sophie to the kitchen.

When the kids are out of earshot, Angelo says, "It may not be a good idea to let him inside the house. He probably has lice."

"What do you want me to do? Restrict him to the garden?"

Angelo sighs. "I'll get him cleaned up."

I narrow my eyes, watching my husband with suspicion. "Did you know he showed up?"

He doesn't blink. "How would I know that?"

I cross my arms. "It seems like too much of a convenient coincidence that you never visit in the day but happened to show up here just as I managed to lure Johan out of the woods."

Curiosity sparks in his eyes. "How did you manage that?"

"Food." I wave at the table. "Grilled chicken and chocolate cake."

His lips quirk. "I've been using the wrong tactics all along."

"Don't you know that the path to a man's heart runs through his stomach?"

"Is that why you're suddenly so interested in learning how to cook?" He raises a brow. "Do you have ulterior motives where my heart is concerned?"

Heat pushes up in my neck, not because what he says is true—it's not—but because of the way in which he says it. There's a new lightness between us, a glimpse of something other than hate, and it makes me wish for things I can never have. I don't know when the shift happened, if it was yesterday or the day before, or if it has been so gradual since the start that I haven't noticed, but I do know that things are no longer the same between us. The notion ignites a spark of hope, but it also frightens me. It frightens me because I desperately want it when logic tells me it's impossible. Not with deaths and vengeance between us.

The children return, cutting our banter short.

Angelo stands. "Come on, Johan. I'll give you a ride in my car."

Johan eyes the sports car. "Where to?"

"Let's get you out of those stinking clothes and go find your brothers."

Under the dirt on his face, Johan turns red as he glances in my direction. He doesn't like Angelo to point out his grooming shortcomings in front of me.

"I'll just wrap up the food then," I say, not meeting my husband's gaze as I get up too.

A short while later, Angelo takes off with Johan, who clutches a plastic container with the leftovers on his lap.