I pad barefoot through the house and pass by the corridor that leads to his study, thinking about how he’d said I needed to stop hovering. I’d come to talk to him about what Colette told me when I’d overheard him speaking to Angelo, the friend who only seems to come at odd hours.
The sky is a deep, cloudy gray with rain coming down hard. It’s perfect for my mood.
I close the door behind me and stand in the warm, humid room. It’s pretty with plants hanging from the glass walls and the small squares of turquoise tiles making the water a gorgeous, vibrant blue. I strip off my robe and dip my toe in before walking into the warm water, extending my arms and going under. Holding my breath to swim the length of it, I love the sensation of water running through my hair, through my fingers as I glide. I swim a few slow laps before turning over onto my back, arms and legs stretched out like a star, the sound of the rain distant with my ears beneath the surface. I close my eyes and lay there, letting the water carry me, floating as I empty my mind and try to forget that morning. Forget my embarrassment at having said those words out loud. My embarrassment at his rejection.
Because that’s what all this comes down to.
He rejected me.
I take a deep breath in and finally open my eyes and startle the instant I do because there, watching me, is a dark figure sitting in the shadow of a pillar at the opposite end of the pool, legs wide, elbows on knees, face dark. Not angry. Something else.
I gasp, my heart thudding.
“I don’t want you swimming alone,” Santiago says, his voice sounding strange.
“You haven’t been here,” I remind him.
“I’m here now,” he says somberly. And I know something’s wrong.
I swim to the edge, and he stands up, gathers my robe, and wraps it around me as I step out, eyes lingering momentarily on my rounded stomach. When he lifts his gaze up to mine, I think I know what it is I see on his face, and it twists my own heart.
It's pain. He’s suffering.
“What’s happened?” I ask, feeling my eyes fill up.
He tugs the robe closed, fingers warm when they touch my skin, and I miss him. I miss his touch. I miss him so much. I want him to hold me. I want to lean into him.
He cups my cheek, runs his thumb over the dot of ink, the start of something that could have gone so wrong.
“Santiago? What is it?”
“I have men picking Eva up. You’ll both stay in the house for the foreseeable future.”
“What?”
“No more hospital visits.”
“Is it my father? What’s happened?” I pull out of his grasp. “What did you do?”
“It’s—”
“If you hurt him…if you…I’ll never forgive you. I swear it. I will never forgive you!” I spin to get away, but he catches me.
“Ivy.” His voice is hoarse, and when I look at him, my own lip trembles with the pain I see on his face. “Your father is fine. I’ve increased his security, too.”
“Security? What is it?”
His forehead furrows, eyes distant momentarily. “Colette and the baby—”
My stomach lurches. “Oh my god!”
“They’re fine. Now. Someone took them. Someone walked into the café she’d gone to and took them.”
“W…what? What do you mean someone took them?”
“She doesn’t know who it was. The person said Jackson had sent him, that something had happened and he needed her back home and she went with him and…well, Jackson hadn’t sent anyone. He had no idea. There was a second man in the vehicle once she got to it and she said she knew something was wrong but couldn’t do anything about it then, not with the baby. They apparently drove them around then took them to the end of their street a few hours later.”
“Are they okay?”
“They’re unharmed. They’re home and unharmed. IVI is protecting them.”
“Oh, god.” My hand trembles as I lay it over my stomach. Someone took Colette and her baby? Holton had been threatening Jackson.
“And I spoke with Jackson,” he says, eyes far away. “About…” he trails off, takes a deep breath in, then sets both hands at my arms and looks at me for a long, long minute before pulling me in to hold me.
I wrap my arms around his middle.
“I know you deserve better and more than I am capable of giving and I’m sorry for my failing, but I will protect you. I will keep you safe. I swear that on my own life, Ivy. I swear it.”
22
Santiago
I sit on the edge of the bed, studying my wife as she sleeps. The soft rising tide of her breaths is the only comfort I have found in the wake of recent events. To know that she is here, she is alive, is everything.