Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(55)
“Where is she?” I shot upright.
“Relax,” he repeated, nodding to a small white and gold bassinet beside me on the rather large bed. There she was, fully cleaned, dressed in a light pink onesie and matching hat, even a blanket over her. I reached over to touch her cheek, smiling.
Looking around, I noticed we weren’t in the attic anymore. It looked like another luxury hotel suite, with its own small living room, kitchen, and bathroom. However, the monitors and IV as well as the call button made our location obvious.
“You brought us to a hospital?”
“You need to eat. She’ll wake up soon wanting food too.” He spoke in a hushed tone. He placed the tray of food he had at his side, which I hadn’t noticed until now, over my lap. Chicken and rice soup, a bowl of fruit, and a large Italian salad. My gaze shifted to the kitchen, some of the same food on the counter, and then back to him. His tie was gone and his shirt was unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up at the elbows. His dark brown hair was uncharacteristically tousled .
He cooks?
“Yes, I cooked.” He answered like he could read my mind and handed me a spoon. “No chef here, but it’s good enough to be eaten. And yes, this this a hospital. But no one comes to this floor and no one can get in this room unless they have a code, or you push for help. This room specifically was where my grandmother would hide away after getting a few…facial updates, as she calls them. Believe me, it is secure.”
“You brought us both here, cleaned her…” I glanced down at the light pink silk robe I now wore, “and me without anyone noticing or me waking up?”
“What?” He grinned. “You thought only you could be so sneaky? My brother and I have done much harder things growing up. Now eat.”
I took the spoon, eyeing him carefully before lifting the soup to my lips. I took a sip, kind of hoping it would be horrible, but sure enough it was very good.
“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Callahan.”
“You’re one to talk.” He moved to the other side of the bed, taking a seat beside the bassinet. He placed his hand on it and rested against the head board. He stroked her stomach gently. “We still need to name her.”
I lifted the bowl and leaned back as well. “I can’t think of anything. I just feel like calling her beautiful.”
“So, Bella then?”
“God no, it reminds me of my sister.” I grimaced at the thought of her being anything like Bellarose. “But it should be something Italian, seeing as her last name is Irish.”
He grinned, looking down at her and speaking softly. “Your parents are off to a bad start, aren’t we?”
I smiled, taking another bite and really trying to think. “I want something strong, beautiful, that stands on its own but has a family feel to it. Something Italian so people know she is both Italian and Irish…technically more Italian.”
“Why don’t we just name her Italy?” He rolling his eyes at me.
“Fine.”
He frowning. “No. I’m not naming my daughter after a country or a car. Those people grow up to be snobs.”
“Fine.” I was licking my spoon when a thought came to my mind. “Your mother.”
“No.” He shot me down quickly.
“Why? Because you’re hunting her down?”
“Why not Bella?”
My eyebrow twitched and my eyes narrowed, but he just stared back. He looked as if he was saying he was willing to fight me.
“My sister hasn’t done anything great. Your mother, on the other hand…and not just her. The whole Giovanni family is respected still in Italy, and even here. The family that grew from nothing to conquer the whole world. Naming her after your Italian side…”
“And yours?” He was no longer listening to me. “The Orsini family is just as respected. Pick something from your family tree and then it would be like our families joining.”
I knew this moment would come someday, but I never thought it would happen like this. I had daughter. My daughter. Both of her parents were here, both of them loved her…she was a product of that love and that warmed parts of me I didn’t think I had. So I faced him and said, “I lied to you, I’m not an Orsini.”
ETHAN – AGE 24
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, March 10th
My mind went blank. I didn’t understand.
“What?”
“I’m not an Orsini,” she repeated, placing her bowl back on the tray. “Not by blood, anyway.”
“You were adopted?” No, I had seen her mother and her sisters, and she looked like them.
She nodded and her grey eyes never left my own. I could tell she was trying to keep her voice void of emotion. “I told you my mother didn’t want me. That was true. But it wasn’t because she and my adoptive father don’t love each other. She was raped. You noticed how I barely showed until the last month or two…it was kind of the same for my mother. She had taken the morning after pill. She did everything she thought she was supposed to do. And then I think she started to lie to herself. She was in denial about being pregnant, she hoped it was her husband’s…but deep down she knew. When you look at us, you notice my grey eyes. So, my adoptive father knew. They kept me, but my mother had deep scars from that moment…which she often took out on me. Apparently, I have the same eyes as the man who attacked her. So, often, she would see me and try to kill me. Smothering, choking, poisoning, drowning, everything short of putting a gun to my head and firing. My mother tried to kill me many times, and everyone would just tell me to try to understand and keep this disgrace quiet for the sake of the family.”