Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Anya’s hand pulled out of mine.
Reluctant to have her revert to a time when she fought me, I answered her gesture with my own. Bracketing my arm around her shoulder and then leading us closer to where my sister was standing.
Sofia pivoted to look at us—her eyes wide as she assessed Anya.
And then there it was.
The biggest smile reaching her bright eyes—and in all honesty, I couldn’t recall the last time she’d shown any conceivable joy like this since she was a girl. Sofia crossed the space between us, bursting with love and affection.
My beautiful sister, the woman who’d grown out of the child who I’d kept alive all those years ago. It made my chest ache, but before I could think more about that, I trampled the rising feelings.
I smiled. Not as wide, but a smile, nonetheless. “Sofia, I want you to meet Anya.”
Still, I didn’t drop my arm, but then when my sister reached out to pull her into a hug, I was left with no choice but to let Anya go.
Sofia hugged her as if they were long-lost friends. Not enemies, but I guess in Sofia’s sheltered life, they weren’t. Not really. I’d ensured my vendetta was mine alone and never touched her.
“You’re Anya?” The question was heavy with the weight of its meaning—that she was Stephen’s daughter.
“I’m so sorry for everything my father did to you.” Anya’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know how to make it up to you.”
Sofia raised her chin high. “You’re proof there’s such a thing as balance in life.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied softly.
Sofia swapped a knowing nod with me. “Let’s sit. I want to hear everything about you. The woman who stole my brother’s heart.” Her pearls of laugher reverberated through the air, soft and full of relief.
This was the Anya effect—bringing calmness to an otherwise dire situation.
I imagined this was what Anya was like in her other life. The one before this. Recalling what she’d admitted to me about her home life. That it had been lonely. At the time, I’d not understood. But now, looking at how relaxed she was and how much she enjoyed this company, I realized she’d never had this.
No.
That wasn’t strictly true.
She had Archie.
I remembered everything she ever told me about him. The way her eyes had sparkled when she shared those affectionate stories of him—how they fought but also how they helped each other survive the worst of the years. Her expression glittered with love for her brother.
And I knew exactly what I needed to do.
Find a way to give her this again. Her sibling relationship that meant so much. Somehow, I had to find a way to get her to see her brother.
Or maybe even bring Archie here.
Anya
After a week, I became even more restless.
I tried to stay busy by baking, mostly, and preparing almost too much food for us. Making sure the staff were always well-stocked up with cookies. Finding myself overwhelmed with the work I’d set for myself in the chapel—he wasn’t ready yet to bring others in to help. More than anything, I missed Cassius when he wasn’t here.
The thought that Archie was still living under the same roof as an arms dealer, that cruel man who’d once called himself my father, gnawed at my nerves. I wondered if he missed me.
The sound of a car pulling up in the driveway filled me with excitement, and I hurried to greet him, heady with the thrill of seeing Cassius. Like a magnet, drawn to see him as soon as he stepped in the door.
Only it wasn’t Cassius who’d entered the foyer. . .
I was looking up at the man who meant so much to him. Ridley was standing there as though he’d come to see me.
“Anya.” He glanced down the hallway as though checking we were still alone. He led me down another hallway. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Straightening my back, I exuded confidence. “You?”
His face bore a rainbow of expressions from conflict to warmth. “Your father visited me.”
“What? When?”
“In my office. Yesterday.”
My throat constricted with panic as though my father was here.
He shook his head. “We can’t tell Cassius.”
“We must.”
“No, listen.” Ridley shifted uncomfortably. “Stephen informed me the only reason he didn’t rescue you is because he was concerned Cassius might act impulsively.”
Impulsive? Like his men shooting at another car in the middle of Mardi Gras? Trying to kill the man I . . . loved. It hit me then like a ton of bricks.
I loved Cassius.
I’m not sure when it happened, but it did.
But what did that mean for us, for the situation?
I couldn’t think about that. I needed to think about what Ridley had just told me. If he knew Stephen had acted impulsively, it made me wonder if Ridley even knew about that.
I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Maybe Cassius trusted this man, and maybe he didn’t. It was crucial for me not to reveal anything that would put us in any more danger.