Page 88 of Beauty and the Daddy

My brother's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

It never has.

19

BELLE

Okay, Belle. You're the adult, and you need to act like one.

I keep telling myself that so I don't let the kid feel me shaking. I keep my body still, and my smile on, no matter how hard my stomach churns.

I lock my muscles in place so Sofia won't feel me trembling. Keep the smile painted on even as my stomach churns like a washing machine.

The panic room is a tomb dressed up as safety; steel walls, recycled air, and the cheerful knowledge that if everything goes to hell, we'll die quietly where no one can hear us scream.

But Sofia doesn't need to know that. Sofia needs me to be the adult.

Sofia's little body trembles against mine as we huddle together. She's trying to brave, I can tell.

The whole thing feels like a fever dream. I mean, I just went from balcony sex to panic room in mere minutes. Just anotherTuesday in the Moretti household, I guess, but joking doesn't make it easier.

"Are they gone yet?" Sofia whispers. Her little fingers twist in my shirt, anchoring herself to me like I'm the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

"Your dad will come get us when it's safe," I tell her, smoothing down her hair.

I don't add that the knot in my stomach grows tighter with every passing minute. That each second Luca doesn't appear at that door is another second I imagine him bleeding out somewhere in this massive house.

The guilt hits like a sledgehammer to the chest. While Luca was distracted by me, while I had him pressed against that balcony rail, lost in my body, killers were scaling his walls.

The Beast of New York, legendary for his paranoia, his surveillance, his ability to sense danger three blocks away, and I turned him human for just long enough to let death slip through the cracks.

This is my fault. Sofia's terror, Luca's blood on his shirt, the gunfire that shattered our perfect moment; all of it traces back to me.

You're the distraction. You're the soft target. You're the thing that moves him out of cover because he forgets how to exist when you're around.

I try to tell it to go sit in a corner, but guilt doesn't do corners. It does center stage.

Just then, we hear some blasts.

"Is it fireworks?" Sofia's eyes widen.

"Cheap ones," I whisper back, smoothing her hair. "The kind that fizzle. Nothing special. No need to be afraid."

"I'm not scared," Sofia whispers. "Daddy always wins."

I want to believe her, but I'd seen the look in Luca's eyes when he shoved me down that hallway. I know danger when I see it.

"Of course he does," I half-lie, half-truth. "Your dad's the toughest guy I know."

Sofia shrugs. "That's why the bad men want to hurt him."

Jesus. What kind of life is this for a child? Knowing about "bad men" and panic rooms and why people want to hurt her father?

The little hand on my arm squeezes tighter. "He'll come back for us."

"I know, sweetheart."

But what if he doesn't?