Her body turned to stone as she slapped a hand over her mouth.
“And our daughter lives under the same roof with that man, Lis. This whole fucking situation sucks. Hell, the fact that a man like that is sharing the same oxygen we breathe is fucked. But there is nothing I can do about that, either. I know this is hard for you to understand. You’re a good person with a good heart. Your gut instinct is to save the world. And, usually, I’m right there with you. But you need to hear me on this. I have no control over Clare. The only thing I can do in this situation is keep my family safe.” I lifted one final picture in her direction and finished, “That family now consists of you, me, and this little girl.”
Her eyes flashed wide, and just as quickly, the picture of Tessa was snatched from my hand. She stumbled back until she hit the bed. Then she slowly sank down, her eyes glued to the photograph.
I sat beside her and slid an arm around her back. “Let me worry about her. I don’t like the idea of snatching her away from the life she knows, either. But, Lis, that life is dangerous. I gotta tell you I’d be just as hell-bent on getting her out even if I wasn’t sure she was ours. No kid deserves to grow up like that. But the fact is no one can deny that that little girl is yours. So I will fight like hell to get her someplace safe—that place being with us. And when, and only when, we make that happen, we’ll see what we can do about Clare.”
Her tear-filled eyes lifted to mine. She was looking at me, but I knew she was still seeing Tessa’s face.
“Okay?” I prompted.
She nodded and looked back at the picture. Her fingers glided over the curves of the child’s face. “Okay, Roman.”
I breathed a relieved sigh and squeezed her shoulder. “Now, baby, I know you’ve had a lot dumped on you, but we gotta figure out where we’re gonna live for a little while. I’m not taking you back to our house, and my place is shit.”
“My Victorian,” she whispered at the picture.
“Say again?”
“I own an old Victorian house. I flipped it. I’ve been trying to sell it, but it’s currently empty. All the utilities are hooked up. And I’d feel safe there.”
“It furnished?”
She shook her head.
“Right. Okay. I want a bed, couch, TV, some kind of table we can eat at, and whatever the hell else you need to feel comfortable.” I dug my wallet from my back pocket and pulled my credit card out before offering it her way.
She glanced down at the card then up at me. “All of that’s going to be expensive, Roman.”
I grinned. “I think I’m good for it.”
“We really don’t need that much stuff. I’ve got an air mattress and a couple of chairs there already.”
“An air mattress and a couple of chairs?” I repeated incredulously.
She bobbed her head eagerly. “We can make do.”
No fucking way was Elisabeth ever making do again. I’d worked my ass off and even lost her for over two years to ensure that.
“Seven point four million dollars,” I announced.
Her mouth fell open, and her eyebrows pinched together. “Holy shit. Is that how much you’re worth?”
I chuckled and waved my credit card at her. “That’s what I made last month. Buy some furniture, Lis.”
She clamped her mouth shut and blinked, but a few seconds later, she took the card.
After a shower, which had been just as mentally cleansing as it had been physically, I got to work calling our attorneys. Kaplin was still unsure of our next move. However, Whit was hitting the ground running. He had Detective Rorke on the phone before he’d even hung up with me.
During this time, Lis alternated between staring at the picture of Tessa, petting Loretta, and scrolling through furniture on the Internet. She was lost in her thoughts—and her pain.
I never strayed far from her. Not for fear, but rather for comfort. If she needed me, I was mere feet away. I kissed her every chance I got. And, as I paced the room, trying to figure out the best solution for…well, anything, I’d paused to drag my fingertips over her shoulders, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.
She’d glance up at me with a forced smile that broke me every time.
But I was there.
And she was with me.
We’d figure out the rest together.
Around two p.m., Leo James, along with three of his men—Aidan Johnson, Alex Pearson, and Devon Grant—arrived at the hotel. I was a big guy. But fuck, Alex and Devon were giants. And Johnson was just flat-out scary—tattoos running up and down both arms, black gauges in his ears, brute terror in his eyes.
“Leo, nice to meet you,” I greeted, ushering them to the sitting area of the suite. “Gentlemen, this is my wife, Elisabeth Leblanc.”
Her gaze jumped to mine, but she didn’t argue with my use of my last name. I shot her a wink then continued with the introductions. When I finished, she smiled blankly and offered a soft, “Hi.”