Page 14 of Runaway Queen

He needed me.

I shoved between Edward and Leo’s open window.

“Please don’t speak to my son like that. You can’t manipulate me into dating you. I’m not interested. If that’s a problem, I can stop work on your mother’s portrait, and we can go our separate ways.”

Edward raised an eyebrow at me, looking amused at how I’d pushed myself against him to stop him from talking to Leo.

“You misunderstand me, Sophie. I’m not interested in seeing less of you, only more, and I’m a man who always gets my way.”

He reached out and attempted to tuck a stray lock of my dark hair behind my ear. I knocked his hand away before he made contact.

He rocked back on his heels, his eyes narrowing. I knew exactly what his problem was. He was good-looking and rich, and no one in Hade Harbor said no to him. I was just a poor high school teacher, and the single mother of a sick kid at that. I should fawn over him, gobbling up scraps of his attention and begging for more. It drove him crazy that I didn’t care about him. Truthfully, I found his all-American blond Ken-doll looks boring and generic. He was the kind of man who looked like a hero but was cruel and selfish beneath it. He had mean eyes. I was familiar with them. I’d grown up with those eyes, watching my every move. He had Silvio’s eyes.

I turned to check on Leo and met his gray stare. I always found solace, and pain, a double-edged knife, in those steady gray orbs. They reminded me of his father, a man who had been the opposite of Edward Sloane. Nikolai Chernov had looked like a walking nightmare and yet had only ever protected me. A demon with a code. My villainous savior. Go figure.

“You’re making me uncomfortable.”

Edward sighed. “Don’t be dramatic. Come by the house with the painting, and let’s see how it’s getting on.”

He turned away and took two steps before turning back to me. “Do you know what wing of the hospital Leo is being treated in? It’s the Sloane wing. You might not like me, but you’ll make use of the advantages I’ve given this town, won’t you?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Was it a threat? Maybe it was. I was well versed in the power dynamics of men who liked to throw their weight around. He didn’t want an answer from me, so I didn’t give him one. If it was a threat, with a donor in the works for Leo, I couldn’t afford to piss him off.

“I’ll see you this weekend, Mr. Sloane.”

He smirked. Maybe he thought he looked roguish. He looked like an ass.

“Yes, you will.”

6

SOFIA

We drove home slowly through downtown Hade Harbor. The main street was filled with overflowing flower boxes and tiny, busy independent stores. It was discreetly wealthy, and also felt safe in a way I’d never experienced before. Not that it didn’t have its darker elements, it certainly did. Just the other week, there had been arrests during a fight between two rival gang members. Drugs flowed through Maine from Canada and down into Boston and New York, and where there was drug money, there were people who wanted a piece.

Still, the darkness of my former life had never touched Leo’s. No matter what else happened in a day, as long as I had kept him from that, I’d achieved something.

“Okay, little lion, let’s get dinner started.”

My house sat on the outskirts of town, overlooking the water. It was isolated and small, but I loved being between the woods and the ocean. Leo jumped out of the car almost as soon as I’d stopped and raced for the door.

I followed behind him. Inside the house was a mix of old, and even older. I’d done what I could to repaint, repair, and upcycle the furniture that the aging house was stuffed with. It might not be picture-perfect, but it was made with love. Leo kicked his dinosaur sneakers off and went upstairs. I headed to the kitchen.

It was quiet. Outside, I watched the little boat that Leo liked to play around on bobbing in its tether to a small dock. I turned the tap, and cool, fresh water flowed into the sink. The tattoo on my wrist called my attention.

A little bird, in a cage, with the door open. The bird hovered by the edge, unsure whether to fly free. It was my only tattoo. An homage to the man I’d lost. Nikolai wasn’t dead to the world, only to me. I couldn’t visit his grave, and I didn’t have any pictures of him to frame and show Leo. Instead, in his memory, and in recognition of the way he’d changed my life, I had this tattoo. It might be only skin deep, but the mark he’d left on my heart was deeper. I could never get him out. The only man who’d ever risked everything for me. The one who had never let me fall.

As always, when thoughts of Nikolai crowded my head, I stuffed the heartache and guilt into a tiny box inside myself and turned my mind to other things.

I poured a glass of water and sipped it, looking out at the view of the ramshackle garden that sloped toward the water. Mist hung heavily over the water. The sky was a churned gray, a shade that never failed to make my chest ache. The pain was like an old injury that flared up in certain conditions. The sea when it reflected that gray was one of the triggers. The sight of an innocent roll of duct tape sitting on a counter at the post office. A tourist group walking past, speaking in a rapid torrent of Russian. Leo’s eyes. Those were always the most precious and most painful reminders of the past.

The news about the donor swirled in my head. It changed everything.

Leo had been born eight months after Nikolai got sent to prison. I’d already been in Maine. I’d just run away from Casa Nera, with my father’s threats still fresh in my ears. I’d been dirt-poor, with only a burner phone to call my own. My brother, Renato, had pressed it into my hand as I’d fled on a bus. Antonio De Sanctis hadn’t only wanted his only daughter to run away and lose everything she’d ever known. He’d wanted me to crawl away, and suffer a hard life, as the ungrateful child who’d defied him.

Since that night, I’d spoken to my brother only a handful of times. I’d called him to ask him to get tested for compatibility with Leo. At this stage of his illness, only a kidney donation would drastically change his quality of life. No more hospital visits. No more dialysis. No more missing school.

Renato hadn’t been a match. He’d gotten the tests in secret. My father was as hell-bent on revenge as ever, and my older brother hadn’t dared to let him know that I’d reached out. I was supposed to be dead, after all, and my father wouldn’t allow anything that might reveal the ruse. Antonio De Sanctis was determined to control my life, even if I never saw him again.

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