Page 123 of Wounded King

Violetta! Papà ti ama, piccola Violetta—Papà loves you, little Violetta. Despite a feeling of warmth and love swarming inside me, I'm shaking like a leaf.

"No, you listen to me, don't you ever call her again. If you do, it'll be the last fucking thing you ever do, capiche?" Marcello tosses the phone away and turns to me. "Are you alright? Violet?"

Before I can answer, he pulls me into his strong arms. His hands rub firm, slow circles into my back, anchoring me even while the rest of me feels like I'm slipping under. I'm trembling, though I'm not cold. My breath stutters. My heart's racing like it's trying to outrun something I can't see.

Marcello leans close, his voice softer now. "It's alright. I've got you, tesoro. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

But I barely hear him.

Papà ti ama, piccola Violetta.That voice. Deep, warm. A memory sneaks past the iron gates of time. A laugh, low and rumbling. A flash of a dark suit, a hand lifting a doll and making it dance clumsily across the table. Me, giggling, clapping my little hands.

"You like that, stellina? Your papà's got moves, huh?"

My body gives slightly, and Marcello tightens his grip.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." His voice pulls me from the fog. His hands come up to cup my cheeks. His thumbs brush away the tears I didn't even realize were falling. "You're okay. You're here with me. Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

"I—" I blink up at him. "I remembered something."

He studies me, waiting, patient and intense. "What did you remember?"

"My dad…" I whisper. "He used to call mepiccola Violetta. I saw him… playing with me. Laughing." The image vanishes almost as fast as it came, leaving behind only the ache of its absence. "It was so warm. He wasn't a monster."

Marcello's jaw tightens slightly, but his hands stay gentle. "Maybe once, he wasn't. People change, sometimes for the worse. Doesn't mean that part of him wasn't real."

"I don't know what to do with this." My voice breaks.

Marcello pulls me into his chest again. "You don't have to do anything with it right now. Just stay here. Let me hold you. That's all you need to do."

It's so easy to let him embrace me, to fall back and relax against him, but with the same certain clarity that made me fill out the DNA test, I know what I need to do now. "I want to talk with him. I want to meet him."

"I don't think that's a great idea, tesoro. He tried to have you killed, remember?"

I do remember. I remember all those dead bodies, soldiers who worked for my father and Marcello. Soldiers who died because of me. Soldiers whose names I don't even know. But I also remember something else, something Marcello told me about their conversation. "You said, he said they got carried away. They weren't supposed to harm me."

"No," Marcello replies dead serious, "only to abduct you."

Put it that way, he has a point. But neither can I disregard how desperate he must have been. "Isn't there a way to meet him on… neutral ground? I really want to talk to him."

Marcello pulls back to look me in the eyes. When he realizes how serious I am, he sighs. "We're not going to Vegas," he emphasizes.

I nod.

"Let me see what I can arrange."

"Thank you," I sling my arms around him.

"And we have to be married first," he specifies. When he sees my mystified expression, he explains. "You will be better protected bearing my last name."

"Alright." I agree.

"I'll arrange it as soon as we're back from the Maldives." He squeezes me tightly. "Do you feel better now?"

I nod. "Yes, thank you. I should probably talk to Elaine and Sebastian."

He nods absentmindedly and dials someone's number on his phone. Whoever he's calling, I feel sorry for them. I've never seen Marcello this enraged, but in all honesty, it's freaking hot. I only hear part of the other person on the phone, but I'm pretty sure Marcello is putting the fear of God in him.

"Boss—"