“I don’t want them to win,” I whispered, realizing that they nearly had. I’d tried to kill myself, abandoning the kids who depended on me, because of what they’d done.
I didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror anymore. She was a broken mess of what had come before. How could I expect the kids to do everything in their power to recover from what had been done to them, if I wasn’t even willing to push through for myself?
“All those women,” I said, shaking my head. Nothing I’d ever done had been for them. I’d always focused on the kids.
“They’re safe,” Ivory interjected. “The guys brought them to the hospital, and Matteo is paying for the counseling and medical treatment they all require.” I nodded my head, knowing that it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not with those men still out there, taking more women every day. Hurting them.
“Maybe it’s time for your purpose to evolve,” Sadie suggested, raising an eyebrow as if she could sense the track of my thoughts. “I’m turning a portion of my gym into a self-defense program for women. You should help.”
Sadie was the proactive and preventive type, seeking to teach women to stop the abuse at the first sign. I wanted to help the women who were trying to cope with what had already been done to them.
The front door opened, Madison’s bright, songlike voice echoing through the foyer as she called out to Ivory. I was eternally grateful for the fact that they’d given her a place to stay until we found a more permanent home.
I didn’t know that I’d ever be ready to let her go, but I was in no position to be a mother to a teenage girl, when I couldn’t even take care of myself right now.
“I have a better idea,” I said, connecting eyes with Sadie. She read the unspoken part between us, not wanting to diminish Madison’s mood as she came into the kitchen and grinned at seeing me out of bed.
Her chest struck my side, plastering against me as Rebel growled at the intrusion. Sadie’s brow furrowed, but she turned back to me and mouthed a single word that gave me hope.
“Later.” Spoken as if there was no doubt that I would have a later.
For the first time in weeks, I didn’t doubt it.
49
SCAR
Dr. Lawrence stood, smiling down at Irina where she sat perched on my knee. Maneuvering her into that spot on the sofa in the living area of my suite in the Bellandi Estate hadn’t been easy.
She wanted to fight me more and more with every day that passed, and, while I greatly appreciated the drive to challenge me ever since she’d had her conversation with Sadie, Calla, and Ivory, she wasn’t ready for me to handle her the way I suspected I would need to eventually.
Being with Irina would be a careful balance of give and take. A struggle to maintain my dominance and the control I needed in every aspect of my life without crushing her spirit or reminding her of what it was to truly lose all control and choice.
I wanted to dictate every aspect of her life. I wanted to be responsible for all the choices she made. Down to the details of what she wore every day and where she went, I needed to have that influence over her.
But I wanted her to give me the right. I wanted it to be her decision to submit to me in the way I so desperately desired if we were going to make a relationship work for the both of us.
I could take her choice away, but in the end would I be much better than the man who’d hurt her? I might not beat her or abuse her, but forcing her submission would break something inside my butterfly all the same.
Irina finished answering Dr. Lawrence’s question, her gaze snagging on the door to the room where her father waited. He had insisted on being present for some of Irina’s therapy sessions, and after talking about it with her, I’d realized that was normal for the two of them.
He’d been the one to demand she needed therapy when she’d been a girl. He’d been the one to find her Dr. Lawrence, and while it had worked out, the connection between the two people made me uncomfortable. Irina deserved someone who was in her corner and whole-heartedly working toward her mental health, not the goals of her father, working behind the scenes to influence her therapy sessions.
Only my protest had kept him out of her appointment, and in time, I’d make sure it was a permanent arrangement.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing so much better. Are the sleep meds doing the trick? Any more nightmares?” Dr. Lawrence asked, the final question of her session with Irina hanging heavy in the room between us. She’d said lack of sleep was a significant contributor to Irina’s suicide attempt, that exhaustion made people react to things that they might normally be capable of handling.
Considering how much Irina had struggled before the nightmare three days prior to her suicide attempt, it was no wonder that the lack of sleep had been enough to push her over the edge.
I dropped my head down, watching Irina grimace as she wrung her hands on her lap. Talking about what she’d done always seemed to make her uncomfortable, but I couldn’t decide if it was because of her desire to do it again or because she was ashamed of her actions. If it was the latter, she would come to understand soon enough that there was nothing to be ashamed of. There’d been more times than I could count that I thought about doing the same thing; only my allegiance to the Bellandis had pulled me through the darkest parts of my life.
“Not since…” She trailed off, picking anxiously at the skin around her nails. She’d done it more and more in the weeks since I’d pulled her away from the railing at the top of the stairs—the physical symptom of the torrent of grief that still flowed through her.
Eventually, she’d need to find a way to let it out that didn’t involve self-harm.
Judging by the state of her fingers, I suspected it would be sooner rather than later. I took her hands in mine, stilling the nervous tic so suddenly that she turned to look at me in surprise. She wasn’t often aware that she was doing it, her body compelled against her will or knowledge.
“I haven’t seen any signs of a nightmare,” I confirmed, turning a smile to Dr. Lawrence. Irina squirmed in my lap as she forced her attention away from where her father waited for her, as if she could feel his thoughts trickling through to her from the other room.
I’m sure he didn’t appreciate his princess slumming it with a man like me, but we’d reached the point where I didn’t give the first shit what Judge Ryan thought of my relationship with his daughter.
Because of me, she was alive. Because of me, she was here and would have a future, whether he approved of it or not.
“Good,” Dr. Lawrence said, smiling warmly. “I’ll see you next week unless you need an emergency session earlier. I’m only a phone call away,” she assured, leaning down to kiss Irina’s cheek affectionately.
She left the room as Irina’s father hurried into the room immediately upon her exit. “I’d like to have a word with my daughter,” he said, staring me dead in the eye with disdain on his face. He clearly didn’t approve of Irina sitting on my lap. Probably not sleeping in my bed, either, and I was certain he was used to men submitting, and he expected me to immediately retreat. But I’d dealt with bigger threats than a man twice my age whose only power lay in the law. The Bellandis were above the law.