Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
That will get Belinda out of the way so Falcon can have it out with Declan McAllister. He’s the father of Miles McAllister, the man Vinnie’s father shot to protect Falcon.
And this little girl? She’s his sister.
“Don’t go too far, Belinda.” Her father turns to me. “In fact, if you could just get her a bottle of water and come right back here, I’d appreciate it.”
“Is that okay with you?” I ask Belinda. “We’ll just go down the hallway and get a drink and bring it right back here.” I nod to Jared. “This is Jared. He’ll come with us. He’s really nice.”
Her eyes widen—Jared has that effect on people—but she nods and lets go of her father’s hand quickly.
She seems skittish, so I gesture to her without touching her. “It’s this way.”
We make it to a soda machine, and of course they don’t have Orange Crush. “Would you like something besides water?” I ask.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not allowed to drink soda. But water’s fine.” She stares at me.
“You can ask me about my hair,” I say. “It’s okay. I had cancer. But I’m okay now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” I slide my credit card into the reader and pay for two bottles of water. I hand one to Belinda. “You ready to go back?”
She unscrews the cap of her water and takes a drink. “Do we have to go back?”
I widen my eyes. “Of course. Your father will wonder what happened to you.”
She says nothing.
“Belinda, do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Nowhere. Back to my father is fine.” She glances around the area nervously. “I just don’t want to miss my piano lesson later.”
“You play the piano?”
“Yeah.” She smiles, her eyes brightening. “I’m really good, too.”
“That’s great. Nobody in my family has any musical talent.”
“No one in my family does either. Daddy says I’m a prodigy.”
I smile at her. “That’s just wonderful. I understand why you don’t want to miss your lesson. I’m sure your father understands as well.”
She looks over her shoulder and then returns her gaze to me. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.” I nod to Jared. “Can you give us some privacy? Just far enough so that you can’t hear her?”
“Of course.” Jared walks several feet away.
I kneel. “What is it, Belinda?”
She cups her hand over her mouth and whispers into my ear. “I know I look small for my age. I’m actually eleven.”
“All girls mature at different rates.”
“I know. My nanny tells me that all the time.”
“See?”
“That’s just it. I don’t see.” She crosses her arms. “I don’t go to school with other girls. My nanny teaches me at home.”
“Oh. Do you like that?”
She bites her lip. “I like my nanny a lot. She’s nice. Sometimes I wish I had a friend.”
My heart breaks for this little girl. In seven short years, she’s supposed to marry Vinnie. And of course by then she’ll have matured into a woman—probably a beautiful one, with the fine features she possesses along with her thick blond hair and light-blue eyes.
But before me is not a woman. Before me is a little girl. A little girl who just wants a friend.
The thought makes my heart ache.
“Maybe you should talk to your dad. Tell him you want a friend.”
She shakes her head. “No. I won’t talk to him. Not about anything.”
“Belind—”
“Please.” She grabs my arm, almost desperately. “Don’t take me back. Not yet.”
I’m not sure what to say to her. She obviously wants a break from her father, but why? Whatever the reason, it’s certainly not my place to facilitate it. I don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping.
“Belinda, I can’t keep you hidden from your father. It wouldn’t be right,” I say, gently but firmly.
Her eyes well up with tears.
A pang of guilt seizes me.
“I know. I just… I just don’t want to go back there yet.” She chokes on her words. Her eyes are pleading, her small hand clutching the bottle of water so tight it looks like it might burst.
“All right,” I say reluctantly. “We can stay here a little longer.”
We sit silently on a bench near the soda machine. I watch as she picks at a loose thread on her dress, her blue eyes vacant and far away. The drone of conversations is muffled around us.
“Can I tell you another secret?” Belinda asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Of course.”
She gulps. “I’m scared. I’m scared of my father.”
My heart clenches. Her blue eyes are filled with fear and a sorrow that no child should have to bear. She looks down and plays with the hem of her dress.
“Why?” I ask, though deep down I fear I know the answer.
“He gets angry. He screams, and…”
I gently place my hand over hers, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. Meanwhile inside I’m a storm of anger and sadness.