Hope. What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, standing and leaning my weight on my crutches. I didn’t feel half as confident as I somehow managed to sound. “How did you get in?” He stood in the light just on the other side of the coffee table looking disheveled, his shirt untucked, his hair messy, his face bruised. He gave me a lopsided grin, and I really looked at him for the first time, the dimple on his right cheek disarming me momentarily. His eyes were a light blue gray, the lashes thick and darker than his blond hair. He was tall, well over six feet, but he had a leaner build than Damian, although still muscular. Powerful. I returned my gaze to his face, saw his grin widen. The darkness in his eyes reminded me who he was. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans before reaching into his pocket and taking something out. I cocked my head to the side when he held it out to show me, not understanding right away. “I have a key.” It dawned on me that he held a key to my
Hope She nodded her head. “He wasn’t like this, not then. We were each other’s firsts. First love, first…” “Then you got pregnant.” “Yes. It was right around when things were coming to a head between the families. Tony was going to tell his father. I told Papa.” “That’s why he was so mad.” She nodded sadly. “I was pregnant with the enemy’s child. Never mind that I was barely an adult and unmarried.” “He disowned you because it was Tony’s?” “Yes. He couldn’t accept it. It shamed him. Infuriated him. Looking at me pissed him off. I think I was the ultimate reminder of his disgrace.” “How long did he know before you left?” “A month. He gave me an ultimatum. Abort the baby or lose everything.” “Abortion? Papa?” He was a devout Catholic. As old school as they came. She nodded, her eyes glistening again. “I couldn’t do that.” She glanced up the stairs. “I’m so glad I didn’t.” “Does Francis spears know?” “No. Tony never told him. In fact, we stopped seeing each other as soon as I
Damian Hope sat silently beside me. “What is it?” I asked after a few minutes. “Effie is Tony’s daughter. Isabella confirmed it.” “I’m not surprised.” “They fell in love, Damian. They were young and just fell in love. You were right in what you thought. That’s why Papa sent her away, disowning her. He gave her an ultimatum: abort or leave. She left.” I remained silent, understanding a little more of Isabella. I had pegged her to be a hateful, power hungry bitch. She might well be, but she was also stronger than I gave her credit for. “Tony was supposed to tell your father, but he never did.” I glanced at Hope. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” “He let her go all alone.” Hope looked off into the distance. “He sent her money, though.” She rolled her eyes. “Hope.” I don’t know why I felt the need to defend Tony. I wasn’t, really; I just needed to explain how things were at our house. How my father was. She opened her mouth to speak, her expression unbelieving. “Wait. I’m not defendin
Damian “I liked that,” she said, kissing me. “I’m glad, because I’ll want your little mouth around me often.” I checked my watch. They had be here in twenty minutes. All I wanted to do was hold her, stay here with her, but I had to take care of business. “Go to sleep, Hope.” I climbed out of bed and covered her with the blanket. She shook her head and rose up on an elbow. “My sister, Damian.” “She will be fine. But if she orchestrated Kyle's kidnapping, she will need to answer for that.” “You are not going to let anyone hurt her.” It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “No. I’ll keep her safe. My intention is to keep everyone safe and end this.” “I want to be there with her.” “I want you to stay out of family business.” “My sister is my family.” I shook my head, my tone harder when I spoke. “Your sister is in over her head, and I want her out of it too. Can I trust you to stay here, or do I have to bind you?” I needed her to know this conversation was over. She gla
Damian Isabella was a different story. Roman had spoken with her and told her the reason for the meeting. Maybe it was vanity, a feeling of being acknowledged as head of the DeMarco family, because for all intents and purposes, she was. We just underestimated the DeMarco family’s level of activity. It was stupid on our part. Isabella would be here bright and early, as anxious as me to put this behind her, now that she realized what she could have lost. I had Tony taken to a bedroom downstairs, knowing he would raise hell wherever he was just because he was Tony and he was piss drunk. Roman remained with my father while I went to check on Tony’s progress. “You are not boss yet,” was the greeting he threw at me when I walked into the bedroom. “You at least smell a little better,” I said, tossing one of my dress shirts at him. “Put this on.” I had changed too, wearing a suit minus the jacket. “You want me looking respectable for those assholes?” he asked, but he took it. “I know abo
Hope. Damian.Damian, no!” I held his face with one hand and pressed my other hand to the place on his side that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I kissed him. Kissed him and kissed him. When I tried to push the hair back from his forehead, I left blood in its place. His blood. God, there was so much of it. Too much. “Don’t die on me please. ” He hadn’t promised me that. He had made me three promises, but he had never promised me he wouldn’t die. I had never asked him to promise that. I had never… “Don’t die,” I whispered just to him. He was too still, and when my sister touched my shoulder, and I looked up at her through the blur the haze of my tears caused, I sucked in a trembling breath. Her face, the look in her eyes, telling me it was bad. “There is a helicopter on its way to take him to the hospital,” she whispered, kneeling down beside me, holding me when I turned my attention back to him. They would take him away. They would take him away, and I would never see him again. Why
Damian. I probably dreamed Hope calling herself pigheaded, but it made me smile all the same. And every time I opened my eyes, there she was, sitting by my side. At first, she still had blood on her. My blood. Then she looked like she had showered and changed. I saw Roman too, but she was my constant. She had remembered what I had said. What I had promised her. I vaguely recalled her voice, telling me I hadn’t yet kept the promise to give her the life she wanted. I had changed rooms. I knew it from the way the light came in the window. I wasn’t sure how long I had been in the hospital until finally, I opened my eyes, feeling a little less groggy, and the things around me didn’t seem so like a mirage. Was it a mirage? Was Hope a mirage? “Hey.” I looked up at her beautiful, smiling face. She still sat in the same place, holding my hand, watching me. “Hey.” It felt strange to speak. “How do you feel?” “Like I have been run over by a truck.” “Do you remember what happened?” My
Hope. Damian moved into a bedroom downstairs while he recovered. I slept beside him, taking care not to touch the still tender spot the bullet had ripped into. I knew he felt pain, but he insisted on less and less medication, saying he could manage it. Within a day of being home, he could walk on his own to the bathroom, although it wore him out. “I hate this,” he grumbled a week later after one of his visits to the bathroom. “I hate being weak.” I tucked the blanket up to his waist. “You are getting stronger every day.” “Not fast enough.” “You hate having someone else take care of you. You are so used to taking care of everyone and everything and being in charge of it all but can’t stand to be in a position where you need others yourself.” He studied me, then looked beyond me to the waning light outside the window. “Let’s sit outside.” “I’ll get your wheelchair.” I had already stood to unfold it. He hadn’t used it except for the time they had rolled him in here in it. “No.”