That’s why he’d wanted me back so badly. That’s why Felix had sent Samuel with the tracker. Because when the opportunity came, he planned to take me back. To sell me again. Not that he knew who the buyer was. Just a man with money who wanted me, and all Felix needed to hear was the part about the money. By then things were going south with Petrov and now I wonder if it wasn’t Felix who’d been the one to let the truth about me come out to Petrov. The fact that I wasn’t Elizabeth Grigori but her worthless friend. That’s why he’d offered to pay Petrov back. And all the time I’d thought it was me who’d given it away. I’d certainly been the one who was punished.
“Have a hot shower. There are clothes, Mara. Everything is prepared. I’ll see if one of my men can find you something to change into,” Gray says to Dante.
“I’m fine,” Dante says. “I’d like to get Mara cleaned up.”
Gray is hesitant but nods. “As long as that’s all right with my daughter.”
My daughter.
I nod although I’m not sure why. I don’t need this man’s, this stranger’s, permission. I want to be alone with Dante. I need to figure this out.
“I’ll be downstairs. Are you hungry?” he asks me.
“No.”
He nods and is hesitant to walk away but he does and closes the door behind him.
Once we’re alone, I sit on the edge of the bed and Dante takes my face in his hands, crouching down in front of me.
“Are you okay?”
“I… I don’t know. Did you know about this?”
“I found out earlier this evening. Just a little bit before you did. Charlie recognized his name and remembered when he met with David. It must have been when he met your mother.”
“It’s real?”
“It certainly makes sense. I don’t know that your mother ever told anyone about Gray. I think their affair was brief and she was gone so soon after your birth.”
“I have a father.”
Dante’s face darkens with worry, and he pulls me to my feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Into some warm clothes. Then we can go downstairs and talk to him. Figure out what the hell is going on.”
I look up at him. “I… Are you staying?”
He takes my face in his hands, brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “I was wrong, Mara. I thought it was best to walk away. I thought you’d be safer. St. James… What happened to his fiancée, I didn’t want that to happen to you.”
“Dante—”
“Let me finish.”
I wait.
“I never told you how much I love you. It’s always been you for me. You were right about destiny. If I’m not too late, that is.”
My eyes mist and a bubble of hope inflates inside me. Hope. God. Is this what hope feels like?
“Don’t cry. No more of that,” he says. “If you need time—"
I shake my head, reach up to touch his face. “That’s the thing about destiny. It’s always perfectly on time.”
He smiles and leans in to kiss me, his lips soft, my kiss cautious. My fingertips come to his chest and the way he looks at me when I draw back shows regret. He cups the back of my head, pulls me close, and I let him. I stand up on tiptoe, weaving my fingers into his hair. I kiss him and this time, it feels different. Not hurried. Not like this may be our last kiss. Because this is our beginning. The start of our destiny.
53
Mara
Drake Gray is waiting downstairs when Dante and I are shown into an informal living room half an hour later. This one is much smaller than the other, with a fire raging in the stone fireplace. He has changed into a beige sweater and dark slacks, crouching before the fire, arranging a new log onto the already large stack.
On our way down I’d peeked inside some of the rooms. It’s strange, the house is so impersonal that it’s almost like a hotel. Like anyone could move in and call it theirs. It’s a little lonely, actually. But this room looks lived in. Personal. I’m glad to see it because when I look at him, he looks as lonely as the house.
He straightens, replaces the brass poker and sips his drink as he turns to us. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie with the softest lining I’ve ever felt, along with a pair of combat boots. The closet and dresser were full of new clothes with their tags still on, all in my size. Did he think I’d just move in? This is all so weird.
Dante changed into a charcoal sweater and slacks the housekeeper sent up. We threw our other things away.
“Better?” Drake Gray asks.
I nod and study him, see the crow’s feet crinkle his temples, note the shade of his eyes so much like mine. His hair is a darker shade of graying blond, but I recognize the dimple in his chin. I see it every time I look in the mirror.