Chapter 11 - The Blanket in the Rain
That evening, the grand estate was filled with light and laughter.
In the living room, a massive fort made of velvet cushions and wool blankets
covered half the Persian rug.
Owen and my daughter, Maya, were crawling through the tunnel, giggling and
fighting imaginary dragons.
Lucy sat on the sofa, wrapped in a faded, floral quilt.
Her mother’s blanket.
Adrian had personally retrieved it from the locked trunk in Brielle’s former
quarters.
Lucy stroked the soft cotton, smiling peacefully as she watched the younger kids
play.
Her hands rested comfortably on the armrest.
In plain sight.
Unashamed.
I stood in the doorway with a tray of hot chocolate.
Adrian walked up behind me.
He was wearing comfortable dark jeans and a gray cashmere sweater.
The ruthless mob boss had disappeared, replaced by a father at peace.
“Maya is a wonderful girl,” Adrian murmured, looking at my daughter laughing
with Owen.
“She talks too much,” I smiled.
“Complete opposite of me.”
“She brings life into this house,” Adrian replied softly.
“Both of you do.”
He reached out and took the heavy tray from my hands, setting it on the side
console.
Then he gently took my right hand in his.
He turned my palm over, looking at the faint bruises on my wrist.
“Your rent check cleared this morning,” he said.
I looked at him, surprised.
“What?”
“I bought the apartment building in Queens where you live,” he said casually.
“And the mortgage on your mother’s house in Delaware. All settled. Clean deeds.”
Tears rushed to my eyes.
“Adrian, you can't just buy my life!”
“I’m not buying your life, Rachel,” he said, his voice dropping into a tender
gravel.
“I’m removing the weights that were holding you down.”
He stepped closer, his chest inches from mine.
May you like
“A woman who stands in front of machine guns for my children doesn't worry about
utility bills.”
