Page 126 of What's Left of Us

I’m not going to pretend I’m a saint. I know I’m not. But I also know I’m better than the men across from me. “And who is that?” I question him.

Nikolas’s calculated grin makes my eyes narrow when he says, “A liar.”

“I suppose it takes one to know one then,” I return casually, not letting the words soak in as much as they want to.

He wants me to fold.

I won’t.

When the women come back in, there are two servers that follow behind with trays of food. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to somebody’s house that has hired help catering a basic meal, but I expect no less from the Del Rossi family.

Dinner is silent, save for the silverware clinking against the expensive plates. I wouldn’t be shocked if the design on the dishes were actually gold-encrusted knowing the company I’m in.

All the chatter that we’d walked into faded the second Georgia and I arrived, but the tension grew tenfold as each course was served.

Georgia only eats a few bites from each course, only poking at the fancy tart topped with all of her favorite fruit placed in front of her by dessert. The girl with the biggest sweet tooth I know barely touches anything that she would happily eat if it were just us.

And it’s killing me.

“I think it’s best we go,” I say, scooting my chair back and standing. “Georgia?”

It’s an out.

I’ve let her see how little her father truly needs her and taken the thick silence for as long as I can. I’m used to uncomfortable situations, but tonight goes beyond that. It’s a challenge, one I don’t want to take.

Not in front of Georgia.

I extend my hand, waiting for her to take it.

Her eyes go to my palm, then up my arm to meet my gaze. Throat bobbing, she blots her mouth with her napkin and moves the chair back.

She doesn’t take my hand when she stands.

She doesn’t look at Nikolas or the Carbones.

Her eyes go to Leani. “Thank you for having us,” she says, her voice no more than a whisper.

“You’ll have to come back next week,” Nikolas says instead of his wife. “Perhaps we can have traditional family time.”

Without me, he’s saying.

No chance in hell I’m letting that happen.

Leani stands as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

She walks alongside Georgia, hesitating at the door.

I pull a card out of my back pocket and pass it to her. “If you need somebody to help you, you should call this number.”

Leani stares at the business card a moment before taking it. “Shawn Hart?” she reads.

“He works in the special victim’s unit. He deals with a lot of domestics. His experience ranges farther than your stepdaughter’s.”

“Lincoln,” Georgia murmurs.

I turn to her. “I’m just being honest. Hart can help her because he has the resources to.” When I focus back on Leani Del Rossi, she’s not making eye contact with me. “I’ve dealt with abuse before. I know what it looks like. It’s not worth staying. Hart can get you out of here.”

When the older woman lifts her gaze, I find a hardness in the hue of her eyes. “I don’t need your friend’s help.”

---