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“Isn’t that why we have most of the cops in these towns on our payroll? I’ll make a few calls.” My father nods in agreement. I hadn’t thought much of the asshole since Ronan and I rolled him out of the back of the SUV into an alley. I need to go backto the information Violet sent over. My wife has kept me rather occupied. She can even do it when she’s nowhere near me.

“So you and Tova seem to be getting along just fine.” He gives me a genuine smile. One that he usually reserves for my mother. I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts about what he saw to himself.

He’s almost gloating, thinking he's a matchmaker. I’ll silently give him the credit for giving me the push I needed when it came to Tova. Never will I give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, though. He already thinks he always knows best. Besides, I think it’s bigger than him wanting me to find a wife because of some flowers and roses bullshit.

My father and I can be a lot alike but very different too. We both enjoy control, and I’m sure as much as he wants me to fully take over, letting go of that control is eating at him.

“My wife is none of your concern unless it involves her safety.”

“I’m sure you will keep your wife safe.” He sits down in the chair in front of my desk. “Do what needs to be done.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I warn him.

My father believes thrusting Tova into this world and by my side will keep me solidly planted where I am. That I won’t let things get too cleaned up around here because Iwilldo what I need to protect her… no matter the cost.

Chapter Twenty-One

TOVA

Iget one box unpacked, and I swear when I go back out to the hallway to grab another, more have appeared. I push my glasses up my nose, going to the box at the very end to bring it back into the bedroom. When I open it, I know I haven’t been going insane; there are indeed additional ones because I don’t recognize the items inside of them.

The first is filled with all kinds of sewing supplies that put mine to shame. Then there are the ones with more fabric than I know what to do with. When I finally get almost everything unpacked, I have easily filled the spare room. If this room is to possibly be a nursery one day, I’m going to need to move all this stuff to another location in the house, which is more than fine. This will work for now.

The thought gives me pause. I find myself thinking about having a baby with such ease, as if it's not a significant life-changing event. It should be freaking me out, but it doesn’t. I might be living off the excitement of my new husband. I have hope for the future now that we’ve cleared up all the misunderstandings between the two of us.

When I get the rest of my clothes unpacked, I fall back onto the bed. I should send Marks a few pictures and?—

“Oh my God!” I jump up from the bed. Marks is going to murder me. It’s been days since I’ve contacted her. Where the hell is my phone? The last time I remember having it was at the dock. It’s then I remember that my husband has my phone. Did Warren do as he said he was going to and dig into Marks’ life? “Shit.” I hurry down the stairs towards my husband's office but pause when I see the doors closed.

“Tova.” Cosima calls my name.

“You’re still here.”

“For now. I’m sure they’ll ship me off again soon enough.” Cosima rolls her eyes.

“I thought you loved Paris?” Cosima had done her last few years of prep school in Switzerland and then moved to Paris to go to college.

“I did, or do.” Cosima shakes her head. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. It’s different when your family makes you stay somewhere rather than you picking it.”

“They’re making you?”

“I don’t know what they are doing, but I get the sense they don’t want me here.”

“I want you here.” I have always enjoyed Cosima’s company. We never got a chance to really be close, but when she was in town, we’d hang out and talk books. It was one of her vices, along with reality TV and shopping.

“Really?”

“Of course, not that I have a say.”

“You’re home now.”

“I don’t know about all that.”

Cosima lifts a brow. “It’s your house now. My parents never stay here anymore.” She’s right; they aren’t around much, except when you’re fooling around with your husband and they burst in. Out of all the times for them to show up. “Does Z stay here often?”

“I’m not sure.” I don’t spend a lot of time in the main house. That’s obviously going to change. “When he is, he sticks to his room.”

“Does he date?”