“That would be Soren’s father,” he states confidently while trying to reach for my pockets. “The notebook, girl. Give it over. I’ve told you enough.”
The kick I land on his thigh causes him to grunt but not relent. I’m still stuck beneath him, twisted into an awkward position, my shoulders pinned again to the carpet as he rests his weight on me. He’s too strong.
That’s twice today I’ve been overpowered by a man.
“What hand did you play?” I manage to grunt. “What did you do to my father?”
“I didn’t do shit to your father, Alexandra.”
I growl. “Not good enough.”
“What are you going to do about it? You’re too weak to handle this life. I know that—and so did your father. Why do you think he gave you that notebook?” He grins maliciously. “So it would get you killed, of course. He meant for you to have a quick death.”
“You’re lying!”
A pair of hands grab Gilbert’s shoulders and yanks the man off me. Tomas towers over his father with a face as red as a tomato. He points accusingly at his father for a moment, lips moving soundlessly as he tries to control his anger. But he can’t seem to speak.
Curses fly from his lips as he collects me from the ground and brushes me off. He rushes me into the foyer and up the stairs, past a few curious servants who dared gather close enough to hear the commotion happening in the living room. Our lives must be so much more entertaining than late-night television. It must be hard for them to pretend like they’re not listening at all.
How many of my arguments have been repeated to other listening ears? Who’s heard me fuck? Who’s witnessed my o-face as many times as the boys? I’m not a stupid little girl like Gilbert claims. I know I’m being watched—and I’m well aware of how my movements are reported to nearly anyone interested.
“Baby, are you okay?”
I blink rapidly, not quite understanding how the hell we got to Tomas’s room so quickly. He gently holds my shoulders, strokes my neck, runs his thumb over my cheek. His eyes flit everywhere, checking me for marks or bruises.
“Doll?” His thumbs roam beneath my eyes, commanding my gaze. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I blurt. “He wanted the notebook.”
He closes his eyes in defeat, bowing toward me to rest his forehead against mine. “That’s all my fault.”
“What?”
“I told him you have the notebook so he would see some value in you.”
I step back, breaking physical contact with him. “You did what?”
“Baby, I did it so he would take me seriously. I…I’ve been…” He scrapes his fingers through his hair, loosening the black strands and causing them to flutter over his cheek. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver ring. “Will you marry me?”
The sudden question shocks me into silence for several minutes. I stare at the simple band hosting a modest diamond, wondering where he got it, who made it, if it was ever one of those blood diamonds. Why would any of that matter right now? This is far from romantic, but it’s a huge gesture, the kind that emphasizes how serious this situation is for me—for all of us.
“Tommy,” I whisper as I close my eyes. I cover my face, trying to hide from him. “Put it away.”
“Are you saying no?”
I shrug and drop my hands. “I don’t have an answer.”
“Why are you hesitating?”
“What do you want me to say?”
He tucks the ring into his pocket, securing me in place with a critical look. “Are you holding out for something better? Is there someone waiting to scoop you up and carry you into the sunset?”
Lev comes to mind. And then the guilt that always comes with thoughts of Lev. I blink away tears as I croak, “No.”
“We’re all guilty of betraying you at this point. You’ll never have a decent boy wanting you.”
Those words pierce me and lodge deep within my body, burrowing in the soft tissue that’s hardly healed from Lev’s death. My lower lip quivers as I try to contain my emotions. I hear Parker in my mind, his sharp criticism of how susceptible I am to mood swings. Just about anything can move me to tears if it’s directed at my heart.