Page 138 of Thorns of Death
She chuckled. “They’re not even born and already they’re exhausting me.”
“Ah, the joys of motherhood.”
Silence followed and I waited, tension spreading. “So I hear you’re a stepmom now.”
And there it was.
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“How’s that going?”
I rubbed my forehead, unsure if I was ready to have this conversation. “Enzo and Amadeo are good kids. I like them, and they’ve accepted me just as I have them.”
“And the sugar daddy?Paparino?”
A choked laugh escaped me. Leave it to Tatiana to break the tension with something like that.
“Paparino?” I cackled. “Where in the hell did you hear that term?”
Her chuckle traveled through the line. “I looked it up, but for God’s sake, don’t tell your brother. He’d lose his shit.”
I grinned. “Now there’s an incentive to tell him.”
“You’re the worst,” she scolded.
“And you had me so worried when you were in the hospital,” I told her, and all amusement suddenly drained away. “I was so fucking worried. For you. For my brother. For the babies.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
My chest tightened remembering how she lay in the hospital bed, Illias beside himself. “Did you find all the answers?”
“I did,” she croaked.
“Did it bring you peace?”Will it bring me peace?
She let out a heavy breath. “Having your brother beside me and the babies inside my belly brought me peace,” she admitted. “There are certain things I wish I didn’t know, but then I also know that it would have driven me insane wondering for the rest of my life.”
“So you understand.” It certainly sounded as if she did.
“I understand. I just don’t think it’ll give you the answers you need.”
“I need the truth,” I snapped, my tone sharp. “My father plucked my mother from a brothel. How do I even know if Illias is my brother?”
A sharp gasp came through the line. Maybe she didn’t think I knew as much as I did.
“He’s your brother,” she claimed. “You are his sister that he raised. He loves you, and blood ties or none, he’ll always love you. Why do you think he’s on his way to Italy?”
I tensed. “What?”
“You know him,” she said exasperatedly. “He’s convinced Marchetti forced you to marry him.”
He kind of did, but that didn’t really matter right now.
“When did he leave?” For fuck’s sake, my brother could be downstairs, murdering my husband, and I wouldn’t even know it.
“We left an hour ago.” I had to tell Enrico.
“We? He’s bringing you with him?” It seemed very unlikely.
