Page 62 of Lupo

"He’s working. He won't be back for hours."

His grip tightens slightly. "That gives us time to discuss your return with me to Rome."

"I'm not going back with you."

"Yes, you are." He pulls me closer. "You and Elena. We're going to be a family again. The way we should have been all along. I'll forgive you for this little indiscretion. This running away. Thisman you've taken up with. We'll put it all behind us. Elena is still young. She won’t remember any of this if you return now."

"Draco, please."

"Please what?" His other hand comes up to my face, almost gentle. Almost loving. If you didn't know him like I do. "Please forgive you? Please take you back despite your betrayal? I'm willing to do that this one time. Because Elena needs her father. Because you need someone to take care of you. Because you're mine."

I try to pull away, but his grip on my arm tightens. Pain shoots through my shoulder.

"Don't try it," he says quietly. "Don't fight me. You know how this ends."

I know exactly how this ends. With me giving in. With me packing our things. With me climbing into that Mercedes and disappearing back into his world.

Unless Lupo comes home.

But what can Lupo even do? He doesn't even remember who he is. And Draco is connected, powerful, dangerous in ways that go beyond physical strength. His long tentacles can reach me no matter where I run to.

"Let me go," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "You're hurting me."

"Am I?" He loosens his grip slightly. "Sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes. You remember that, don't you? How strong I am?"

The threat is implicit. The memory of my broken arm flashes through my mind.

"Elena will wake up soon," I say. "She'll be scared if she sees you. She doesn't remember you."

"Then you'd better help her remember." He releases me, stepping back. "You'd better make her understand that her Daddy's home. That we're going to be a happy family again."

"She's three years old, Draco. She was barely one when we left. You're a stranger to her."

"Whose fault is that?" The coldness in his voice makes me flinch. "You took her from me. You kept her from knowing her father. But that ends now. Today. We're going home, Isabella. All three of us. You don’t have a choice in this."

“She needs time to adjust to the idea,” I say. “This is her home now.”

"This is no life for my child," he continues, gesturing around the small kitchen. "Living in poverty. Hiding from the world. She deserves better. She deserves what I can give her, the best schools, clothes, a future. A real home. Not this trash."

"She has a home here."

"Does she?" He turns back to me. "Does she really? Or is she going to grow up poor and isolated because her mother is too stubborn to accept help? Too proud to admit she made a mistake?"

I don't have an answer. Because part of me knows he's right. Not about going back to him. But about Elena deserving more than this.

"We're managing," I say finally.

"You're barely surviving." He's watching me carefully. "And this man you've taken up with, how long until he leaves? Men like that always do. They take what they want and move on. Especially men who are hiding something. Working for cash,no papers, he's running from something, Isabella. And when whatever he's running from catches up, he'll be gone. And you'll be alone again."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you." He moves closer again. "But I know men. And I know you. You're scared. You're desperate. And you latched onto the first person who showed you kindness. But that's not love. That's survival. And it's going to end badly. For you and for Elena."

Maybe he's right. Maybe I am just clinging to Lupo because I'm desperate.

But it doesn't feel that way.

"I'm not going with you," I say quietly but firmly.