Page 79 of The Billionaire's Pact

“Yes, he is,” I answered. “He’s an artist like me or I’m like him. We both paint and share with each other our artwork.”

“That’s cool,” he said. “Salvatore and Siena are ten years younger than me, and it might as well be fifty. They speak like they are on another planet.”

I laughed. “They seemed very fond of you.”

“We love each other,” he said. “I know Jacob lives at Yarwood Springs. Do you call him often?” He leaned forward, giving me all his attention.

“Every two weeks, and Cindy, his medical care worker, gives me extra time on special occasions. She has a full list of clients, so we can’t do it every day, but I love our FaceTime calls.”

“Can you tell me more about what happened to him?”

I took a deep breath. Soon he would be family and it wasn’t exactly a secret, at least in my family. I was often reminded that I had a father who’d ruined our family. He might as well know. “Mama said when she was pregnant with Jacob, she gained weight. Judge Colby didn’t like it, so he put her on a diet.”

He puzzled. “Judge Colby? Your father?”

I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s what I usually call him. He’s never been a father to me.” I held my elbows. “But yeah, that’s what I call him…Mama started feeling ill, but he was on drugs and broke, so he refused to take her to the doctor because he didn’t want to pay the hospital bills. He told her women had babies naturally since the dawn of time.”

“Fuck me,” he gritted, then took a deep breath. He took my hand and lightly tugged. “Come sit next to me.”

I went and sat next to him on the bed.

“Please go on,” he murmured.

I lowered my eyelids. “Anyway, Jacob was born prematurely with many health complications. He’s older than me, but smaller. His spine is twisted. He’s mostly nonverbal, but he can say more words now, and he’s improving on that. One of his hands is frozen, except for a finger. He has movement in his other and has learned sign language. He’s immune compromised and has severe seizures, but even with all that, he’s smart. Funny, and very social. He has a better life and is doing so much more now. He’s active, goes places…has friends. A girlfriend, whom he told me about today.” I touched my smile. “He’s a very talented painter.” My voice was thick, and my chest grew tight. I touched it.

“Is that why you followed that family around at Pisa?” he whispered.

I hunched my shoulders. “Yeah. I-I wanted to be like them. To give him hugs and kisses. I haven’t been able to see him in person as much as I’ve wanted over the years.” My voice cracked, and my chin trembled. “It’s been six months since I got to go to visit him at his center. I had college, but even on some summer breaks, I wasn’t allowed to go.”

He scoffed. “Why the hell not?”

“My grandparents decide when it’s right,” I murmured. “He can get sick, so I always made sure I was healthy to go. But they’d always have some reason it wasn’t possible.”

Just saying it out loud seemed awful.

“Fuck that. I’ll make sure that stops now,” he said with determination. A man as powerful as he was, he’d undoubtedly confront my grandparents. He didn’t understand, and I couldn’t explain the nature of our relationship without revealing more things.

I went rigid. “I’ve told you…maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever had to share. That Jacob’s life was harmed by my father’s selfishness. His care is extensive and expensive. We all do our best, and he’s finally happy. He’s everything to me. I don’t want anything to interrupt his life. Ever.” That was my hardline. I’d do anything for Jacob.

“Spending time with him is not interrupting his life,” he said. “It’s being a family, Adelina.”

What he said seemed so simple. It was being a family. The fourteen years in hell with my father and abused mother felt more like survival. The past eight years in boarding school and college made me feel mostly alone. I loved my family, but I didn’t feel like we were a family. Still, they meant everything to me.

“My family is all I have,” I said hoarsely.

He picked up my hand and squeezed it. “You’ll be my wife; we will be family. You have me. When we return, I want to meet him.”

My heart swelled. I couldn’t speak.

He wrapped me in his arms, and I closed my eyes, and for a while everything felt right. And I didn’t feel quite so alone.

“You can’t leave without having dinner,” Grandpa Marini said. He directed us into the kitchen and handed Rocco an apron. “You can cook. We’re taking a tour.”

Rocco didn’t object; instead, he took off his blazer and went to work.

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at him. “We keep changing his plans,” I half-joked.

Grandpa Marini laughed-coughed. “Don’t worry about Rocco. He knows my cook doesn’t need him. He’s just giving me some time with my soon-to-be granddaughter.” He squeezed my arm, and I felt how his hand trembled.

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