Page 155 of Wounded King

"It's my bedroom," Marcello counters, unperturbed, marching into his closet.

"That's one sight that'll be burned into my eyes for years," Sophia complains good-naturedly.

"I have the number of a good therapist," I offer.

She giggles. Something tells me she hasn't done that very often in the past few years, and the sound warms my heart.

Marcello returns, in sweats and a shirt, to give his sister a hug. He told me she came to the meeting, but there hadn't been any time for anything other than her assuring him that she was fine.

"Is he here too?" Marcello wants to know after a long hug.

She shakes her head. "No, we wanted you to see that I'm free to come and go as I please."

We. The word echoes in my head—her and Raffael. There is a story there, and I won't lie and deny that I'm dying to hear it.

"Are you going to fill us in?" Marcello prompts.

"It's still pretty… raw," Sophia blanches. "But I want you to know that I'm safe and loved. Raffael has loved me for a long time, but he could never tell anyone. He saved me… twice," her crystal-clear gray-green eyes water. "I'll tell you. I promise, just not… today."

She sniffs, and Marcello nods. His hands ball into fists. It's not hard to read his mind. I'm glad his anger at Raffael now has more to do with stealing the satisfaction of killing Roberto than with the fact that he kidnapped his sister. But I also know he's worrying about what Margarita told him about Raffael, who he is. I'm glad he's not mentioning it now.

"Sophia agreed to be one of my bridesmaids," I change the subject, realizing Sophia is on the verge of breaking down.

Marcello seems to sense it too and hugs her to his chest. "Good. It'll be in Vegas, I'll let you know."

She nods and pulls out her phone. "Here's my number, for both of you. I'm not a prisoner," she gives a little nervous laugh, "anymore. So call me anytime, I would love to have lunch with either or both of you."

Felix decides it's time for him to get some attention and stretches on the bed where he's been lying, mostly hidden by my blanket.

"Oh, you have a kitty," Sophia exclaims.

"It's Violet's," Marcello clarifies.

Sophia ignores him. "Can I pet him?"

"He loves pets," I say with a nod, and Felix walks right up to her.

Sophia is tentative at first, worried she'll scare him off, so I encourage her, "He's more like a dog, you won't scare him."

Seconds later, Felix shoves his head into Sophia's hand, demanding ear and nose rubs before plopping on his back, spreading his legs for a belly rub. Sophia giggles, and a sound of distaste leaves Marcello's throat, but, fascinated, he watches his sister giving Felix belly rubs.

"I never knew cats did that. I always thought they were afraid of strangers." Sophia observes.

"Not this one; this one likes to shred strangers," Marcello interjects with a wicked smirk, remembering how Alejandro looked after one round with Felix. He almost fools me into believing he's proud of Felix.

"He was tiny when I got him. I had to bottle feed him," I explain. "Ever since, he's been more like a dog than a cat."

"Oh, how do I get one like this?" Felix licks and nips gently at Sophia's hand.

"Don't worry, I'll find you one." Marcello's expression turns devilish, probably relishing some ideas of payback for Raffael.

"Let's go, I have a surprise for you," Marcello pulls the covers off me first thing in the morning. It's two days after Sophia visited us, and Marcello has been a hard taskmaster since. He's right, though. I need to get out of this bedroom. I've been taking little walks around the apartment, and I've even used Marcello's exercise room to get my strength back.

Workers have been busy on the balcony. Just like Marcello promised, he's having Plexiglass walls installed so Felix can't accidentally fall a hundred stories down. The noise is incentive enough for me to want to get out.

"Where are we going?" I ask. I've already taken a shower and washed my hair. What's left of it. The doctors had to shave quite a bit of it off. But they assured me it'll grow back, for now, I'm doing the famous comb over. I still need to decide what to wear though.

"It's a surprise," he answers mysteriously.