Page 15 of His Tesoro

“Okay, then.” I walked out of the room, taking her straight to the kitchen. I hesitated before setting her down on the island. The thought of letting her go seemed unacceptable.

I braced my arms on either side of her. “Can you sit here?”

Sofiya’s eyes were wide, but she had stopped crying so I called that a win. She nodded.

“You’re not going to fall off?”

The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m not going to fall off.”

I just grunted and opened the fridge. The cold air wafted against me as I stared unseeingly at the shelves. I’d spent my entire childhood learning to keep a tight fist of control over myself and others. This had only intensified when I took over as Don, and it had been years since I truly felt out of control. But here, in my own fucking kitchen with a tiny girl sitting on the counter behind me, something began to unravel inside me.

“Um, do you need help?” The sweet voice behind me held an edge of laughter, and I realized I’d been staring at the inside of the fridge in stony silence for longer than appropriate.

“No.”

Yes. I couldn’t remember the last time I cooked something. Why wasn’t there any prepared food here?

I shut the door. “I will order something. What do you want?”

“I’m not picky.”

I fixed my gaze on her. “You will tell me what you want.”

“Pizza?” she almost squeaked.

“Assimilating to your new Italian life?” I asked, texting Angelo to get us pies from my cousin’s place.

“I like pizza.” She tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, and I followed the movement. “And I could cook sometime…” She trailed off, a stricken expression on her face as she looked away.

I thought of the cinnamon roll recipe from yesterday morning. Maybe she liked to cook, although I wasn’t sure why that would make her look so upset.

“Why haven’t you eaten anything?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” she whispered.

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed to?”

“You said I should stay in my room, so I just wasn’t sure…”

My brain whirred as I tried to understand what she was saying. When had I told her she couldn’t leave the room? The only conversation we’d had was yesterday morning…

Shit.

Fuck.

I put my phone down on the counter and stood in front of Sofiya.

“Look at me.” There, my voice sounded soft enough. To my confusion, she didn’t do what I said. When was the last time someone had defied me?

I gripped her chin with my thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. Her skin was so fucking soft.

“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t leave your room.”

“Oh.”

“This is your house now. You can use whatever room you want. And if you want to cook or make cinnamon rolls, you can.”

Sofiya blinked, looking tired and confused. The urge to comfort her overcame me. I dropped my hands and stepped back to prevent myself from doing something ridiculous.

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