Page 57 of I Would Beg For You
“She does.” Still the same quiet assurance in his demeanor.
And she got me out from my house, was protecting me from Thad, brought me here… I gulp and squirm in my seat. When a large, warm hand lands on my back, I jump a little.
“Easy,” Valentino soothes next to me.
How is it I’d forgotten he is there with me? He’s my rock, my anchor, but strangely, it’s like he doesn’t fit in the picture right now. This doesn’t concern him, in a way. Why I feel this way, I have no idea, and it throws me off. I need Valentino with me. He’s been my only constant in this recent storm since my father decided to pursue his political ambitions.
“I…”
My voice falters. Val is peering at me strangely, as is Anya. I reckon they must both be worried for me, and I gulp down hard. This—whatever this is—is something I have to do alone. It’s a moment that will prove my mettle.
What the hell does this even mean, Naomi?
Goodness, what’s happening to me? Suddenly, there are so many questions inside me. They’re overwhelming, drowning me, suffocating me.
I glance once more at the two people in the room with me, then at my uncle.
It’s funny to think I have a relative. It’s always been me and my dad for as long as I can remember. Declan Reeves seems like he cares for me, so I’m not alone in the world. After what Anyasaid about my father not bothering with what happened with Thad in the house, something in me shriveled and died a slow, painful death. I can count on Valentino, I know this, but it’s not the same.
When the Italians say sangre is everything, I get what they mean now. This man on the screen is my blood. We’re part of the same thing, me and him. Same family, same bloodline, same lineage. An unbreakable bond. It might’ve taken me twenty-three years to find him, but it’s happened.
“Can I please take this in the other room?” I ask both Valentino and Anya. It’s her device; it’s courtesy with him.
The frown on his face hurts my heart, yet I know I have to do this. This is my journey, my hurdle, my coming home when I felt I’d lost my grip on what home means.
When he nods, I breathe out a small sigh of relief and give him a wobbly smile. I’m comforted when he picks up my hand and drops a soft kiss on my palm. Anya gives me a chin nod toward the bedroom, and I get up, taking the laptop with me.
I close the sliding doors once in, then sit carefully on the bed, the laptop perched on my knees. Pretty sure the panels are paper-thin, but it’s the fact I’ve taken the step to assert my autonomy in this moment that’s the true issue here.
“It’s a shock, I know,” Declan says.
I jump slightly, which makes the computer wobble, and steady it with my hand.
“How come I didn’t know about you?” I ask.
How come you weren’t there for me all this timeis what I really want to ask. I’ve never been the confrontational type, so the real questions bounce around in my head not really looking for an outlet.
Declan smiles softly, and it looks a tad pained. “My dad got his mistress pregnant when I was six. Ensued a messy divorce with my mother, where he bought custody of me, then he shipped meoff to boarding school the next year as he married her, and Aoife was born. It wasn’t her fault, though, Aoife. She was such a sweet kid. I loved her, loved spending time with her whenever I was forced to come home for the holidays.” He pauses and sighs. “I got out from under his thumb at eighteen.”
And didn’t look back.I can hear the unspoken words.
“My mother was eleven then.”
He nods. “We called each other a few times, but it wasn’t enough.”
I gulp. “She met my father.”
His face hardens. “I didn’t know about it until she turned eighteen and I was invited to the wedding. My father and I didn’t speak much.”
I bite my lip as a question pops up. I can’t throw this out, can I?
“She was happy?”
Turns out Icanbypass the filter to my mouth. Who knew?
Declan stays silent for so long, the dread in my stomach grows into a dark monster with sharp claw shredding my insides.
“How much do you know?” he finally asks.
