Page 40 of The Reborn

I nodded my agreement as she turned and took her from the room. While they were gone, I went and grabbed my security folder, ready to take notes. The page where Elizabeth’s father’s information should be was frustratingly blank. That needed to change today.

Olivia reappeared, her face stoic and a bit paler as she met me on the couch. She curled herself around a pillow and started without preamble, as if she were ripping off the Band-Aid. “I met him in Italy. He was charming and larger than life. I really thought...” She stopped herself and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. So fucking wrong,” she spat. “He wasn’t the man I thought he was, and he was willing to throw me away, throw our child away...” Tears filled her eyes and began to course down her cheeks. “I don’t think he’d expend an ounce of time or energy to come here and do these things.”

“How can you be so sure? He could’ve changed his mind.”

She scoffed. “No. The way we parted...” She shook her head with certainty. “He wouldn’t have changed his mind.”

I tried to bank my irritation at her lack of details. How did she expect me to help her? I gripped my pen so hard my knuckles ached. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t think—”

“Olivia. His name.”

“His name is Chris—” She was cut off by the ring of her cell phone on the coffee table in front of us.

I growled in frustration as she leaned over and picked it up to answer. As she spoke to whoever was on the line, I jotted down in my notes the name: Chris?

When I glanced up, her face was pale and panicked, her wide eyes on my face. Something instantly protective roared up inside my chest as I slammed the folder closed and slid it to the side.

“I see,” she murmured. “Okay. You’re there now?” She nodded, her free hand gripping the couch cushion with a death grip, her knuckles white. “Oh God.” This was whispered under her breath.

“Olivia,” I growled, the demand to know what the hell was happening clear in that one word.

“Yes, okay.” She squeezed her eyes closed and bowed her head. “I’ll be right there. Thank you, Officer.” She dropped the phone next to her without ending the call as she curled in on herself.

“Olivia,” I said again, automatically scooting toward her as she began to shake. “Tell me.”

“Why?” she cried, her face in her hands. “Why would someone do this to me?”

It took everything I had not to shake her for answers, but every cell in my body was vibrating with the violent need to act. To move. To protect. So I did the next best thing, the thing she seemed to need most in that moment. I took a breath and bent my body around hers, shielding her from whatever was making her feel this way.

After a moment, she turned and curled into my chest, fisting my shirt, her breath hot on my collarbone.

I rubbed her back gently and held her as tight as I dared as she trembled. “You’re safe with me,” I whispered. “Nobody is going to hurt you or Elizabeth as long as I’m here, I swear it.” I repeated that over and over until she seemed to hear me.

Her hands eventually relaxed against my chest. Her breathing evened.

“Tell me,” I repeated. “I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded, her cheek still pressed against my chest. She tried to pull away, but I held her firm, lying to myself that it was for her, when I was getting just as much out of holding her and giving her my strength. “That was the police,” she finally said, her voice exhausted. “They were responding to a call from the security company at the center where the dance studio is...”

Something in my gut automatically began to churn. I knew what she was going to say even before she said it, and an unreasonable anger began to boil deep in my veins.

“Someone got inside and vandalized Colomba, Justin.” Fresh tears quivered in her voice as I heard what this did to her spirit—her hard work, her passion being violated. “They need me to come down and look over the damage. See if anything is missing.”

I mentally kicked myself for not securing her workplace faster. Her home had to be the priority, but still. Damn it. “We can take my truck.”

“What about Elizabeth?”

“Is there someone who can watch her? Your parents or your brother and sister-in-law maybe?”

“I’m sure any of them would, but I don’t want to worry my family with this right now. At least until we know more.” She shook her head when I opened my mouth to argue. “I’ll call Sofia and see if she can babysit. She’s always happy to do it. If she’s busy, I’m sure Whitney will.”

“Whatever you need to do.” But if she thought I wasn’t going to be updating Camden, she was crazy.

Within the hour, she had Sofia over, who seemed a bit less skittish around me, but still clearly wondering who the hell I was. I’d hand it to Olivia, she kept our cover story brilliantly, even under the stressful circumstances.

Once we were in the truck and pulling away, I turned to her. “You okay?”

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