resounding off the walls of the dining room.
“Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore, and get
out of my house—now!” she hisses through gritted teeth.
Elena clutches her reddening cheek and stares in
horror for a moment, shocked and blinking at Grace. Then
she hurries from the room, not bothering to close the door
behind her.
Grace turns slowly to face Christian and a tense silence
settles like a thick blanket over us as Christian and Grace
settles like a thick blanket over us as Christian and Grace
stare at each other. After a beat, Grace speaks.
“Ana, before I hand him over to you, would you mind
giving me a minute or two alone with my son?” Her voice
is quiet, husky, but oh-so-strong.
“Of course,” I whisper, and exit as quickly as I can,
glancing anxiously over my shoulder. But neither of them
look at me as I lea一ve. They continue to stare at each other,
their unspoken communication blaringly loud.
In the hallway, I am momentarily lost. My heart pounds
and my blood races through my veins . . . I feel panicked
and out of my depth. Holy fuck, that was hea一vy and now
Grace knows. Crap. I can’t think what she’s going to say
to Christian, and I know it’s wrong, I know, but I lean
against the door trying to listen.
“How long, Christian?” Grace’s voice is soft. I can
barely hear her.
I cannot hear his reply.
“How old were you?” Her voice is more insistent. “Tell
me. How old were you when this all started?” Again I
me. How old were you when this all started?” Again I
can’t hear Christian.
“Everything okay, Ana?” Ros interrupts me.
“Yes. Fine. Thank you. I . . .”
Ros smiles. “I’m just going to fetch my purse. I need a
cigarette.”
For a brief moment, I contemplate joining her.
“I’m off to the bathroom.” I need to gather my wits
and my thoughts, to process what I’ve just witnessed and
heard. Upstairs seems the safest place to be on my own. I
watch Ros stroll into the drawing room, and I bolt two
stairs at a time to the second floor, then up to the third.
There’s only on
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