Turning my back on her and my son’s accusing little face, I headed to my daughter. Once in her room, I rested my forehead against the cool door for a couple of heartbeats before finally I felt in a state of mind to console my little girl.
I stood frozen, staring down at the little boy. What had just happened? Daniele had struggled against Cassio’s grip as if he was terrified of him. And for a moment, Cassio had appeared as if he was on the verge of losing control.
Loulou kept barking downstairs, but Simona quieted eventually, probably because Cassio had taken her out of her crib. Remembering last night’s mess, I squared my shoulders and squatted before the little boy.
“Hello, Daniele. I’m Giulia.”
Daniele looked at me with miserable milk-chocolate-brown eyes. His caramel-blond hair was a tousled mess and even looked knotted in places, as if it hadn’t been combed properly in a long time.
“How about we get you ready for the day?”
He didn’t react, only stared. My stomach tightened. This kid was hurting. His mother had died only a few months ago, and his dad was obviously overwhelmed by the situation. I didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know the extent of Daniele’s trauma, but it was obvious that he needed help. He looked thin too.
I straightened and held out my hand. “Will you show me to your room?”
Nothing. He looked down at the tablet clutched in his hand and turned it on. A sort of game with colorful balloons popped up. I didn’t want to forcefully carry him into his room like Cassio might have done. That wouldn’t help me getting the boy’s trust.
“Daniele, please, help me? I’m new here and I need you to show me your room. Will you help me?” I waited with extended hand.
Daniele didn’t take my hand or look up from the tablet, but he moved toward his room. I followed him inside. He sank down on his bed, the tablet on his lap.
Looking around, I spotted a wardrobe on the right side. Everything was in neutral tones: the walls, furniture, rugs—except for the colorful stuffed toy dinosaurs on the shelves and on his bed. I’d have to do something about that. In my research about children, I’d found images of beautiful hand drawings for nurseries.
After some rummaging, I finally found a pair of jean pants and a sweatshirt. Most of the clothes inside the drawers were for warmer temperatures and most of the winter clothes that I’d found looked too small for Daniele. I headed back to him and knelt down in front of him, tilting my head to see his face. He was focused on the screen, but briefly his lashes fluttered up. “Can you dress yourself?”
I didn’t know when kids learned things like that. When Daniele didn’t react, I reached for his tablet. He let out an enraged cry and turned away. “Daniele, we need to get you dressed.”
I took the tablet and Daniele threw himself at me, completely catching me off guard. The way I was kneeling, I had no chance to brace myself. I fell back and landed on my back with Daniele on top of me as he fought me for the tablet. His nails scratched my cheek.
“Enough!” Cassio roared and Daniele’s weight lifted off me. I jerked into a sitting position, still stunned. Cassio stood over me, clutching Daniele against his side, restraining the little boy’s thrashing arms. “I said enough!”
Daniele froze in Cassio’s hold. Cassio’s expression was thunderous. I swallowed and slowly scrambled to my feet. Cassio’s eyes slanted to my cheek, which was throbbing. I touched the spot and my fingertips came away stained with blood.
“Goddamn it,” Cassio said harshly, his voice shaking with an emotion I couldn’t place. He looked down at the now motionless boy in his arms. Daniele wasn’t the only one who was hurting. He went over to a changing table I hadn’t even noticed before and set Daniele down on it. I picked up the tablet from the floor and put it on the bed before I approached Cassio. I held out the clothes I’d chosen for Daniele.
Cassio nodded at the table. I put the clothes down as I watched Cassio undress Daniele who was still wearing diapers. Surprise washed over me. Shouldn’t he be potty-trained at almost three?
“Can you change a diaper?” Cassio asked, but his voice held an edge that suggested he knew the answer was no.
I shook my head. “I can learn.”
Cassio’s mouth thinned into a line. He changed the diaper quickly, and Daniele didn’t as much as twitch, only stubbornly stared off to the side. After that, Cassio got his son dressed. As suspected, the clothes were on the verge of being too small. Not too wide because he was thin, but definitely too short. Cassio lowered Daniele to the floor, and the boy went over to his tablet at once.
“For a while he didn’t need a diaper, then…” Cassio fell silent.
Then Gaia died.
“Is that why he’s so thin and not talking?”
Cassio swallowed and his expression hardened. “Yes. See if you can get him to eat more than a few morsels of food.”
Cassio scanned my face, his eyes lingering on my scratched cheek once more. “This was a mistake.”
Me. He meant I was a mistake because I wasn’t what he’d expected. But he and his family weren’t what I’d expected either.
So many things needed fixing in this house. Daniele, the boy with a trauma because of his mother’s death and his father’s possible involvement. Simona, who wailed the second I touched her. Loulou who’d never learned to be a family dog. And Cassio who dealt with demons I had no clue about.
Cassio rubbed his hand over his stubble then sighed. “This isn’t one of the dresses I bought for you. You can’t wear this when you meet your bodyguards.”
I glanced down. I wore black tights, a black pleated miniskirt with suspenders, and a yellow cashmere sweater. It wasn’t fancy, but certainly nice enough for a day at home. “I don’t see why I need to dress up for them.”
Cassio’s eyes flashed. “Giulia, don’t test my patience. Not right now. I didn’t marry so I’d have another stubborn child to deal with.”
Gritting my teeth against a snappy comeback, I turned around. I didn’t want to fight with Cassio, but I wouldn’t change into one of those stuck-up dresses when there was absolutely no reason to do so. I didn’t get far. An arm wrapped around my stomach and sharply pulled me back so I was pressed to a hard body. Cassio’s palm pressed flat against my belly, holding me in place as he leaned down. “You will change now.”
The low command vibrated through my body in a way that thrilled and scared me.
“What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that you keep disobeying me and that your skirt is far too short when I’m not around.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Even my mother had never considered my clothes too daring or sexy, and she was conservative. The miniskirt might be short, but the tights were opaque, and my sweater certainly didn’t scream sexy vamp.
“I’m not joking,” Cassio growled.
I laughed again. “You’re being unreasonable.”
Cassio turned me around, one arm around my waist, the other cupping the back of my head. It wasn’t an intimate, loving gesture. It was dominance. “Don’t fight me on this. Not this. I won’t have you around men in that skirt when I’m not with you. Understood?”
His eyes burned with angry possession. I probably would have said more, but the sound of Daniele’s game reminded me that he was in the room behind us.
“Understood,” I said. “Now let go of me.”
He stepped back. I turned and went into our bedroom to change.
When I came downstairs in long black dress pants and a loose-fitting blouse tucked into my waistband, Cassio gave a pleased nod. I felt as if I was wearing a costume. The clothes were uncomfortable. They weren’t me.
“My men are waiting in my office to meet you.”
“What about Simona? Where is she?”
“With Sybil in the kitchen. After I’ve introduced you to your bodyguards, you need to get Daniele down here. He can’t stay in his room all day.”
“I need to go clothes shopping. Nothing fits him.”
“Then do that. Domenico and Elia will accompany you.”
With his hand on the small of my back, he led me down the corridor to a massive wooden door. As we passed the room Loulou was locked in, she barked, causing Cassio’s expression to tighten once more.
His office offered a stunning view of the gardens, beautifully kept as if they belonged to a mansion in the English countryside and not a family home. It didn’t look as if the garden was used at all. Two men sat in wide armchairs across from a sleek oak desk. Both rose the second Cassio and I entered the room. Cassio kept his hand on my back as he motioned at the older man. “This is Domenico.” The man looked to be in his sixties with short gray hair. He looked like he’d served in the military—straight back, perfectly ironed shirt, no-nonsense expression. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Moretti.”
Mrs. Moretti. I glanced at Cassio, my husband. It hadn’t really sunk in yet, not really. “And this is Elia.” My gaze followed that of my husband’s, toward the second man, and he was the complete opposite of Domenico. For one, he was young. Mid-twenties tops. He had wavy light-brown hair that was loosely styled back. His clothes accentuated a muscled body, and his smile came quick. It was easy-going, almost charming, but still with the necessary respect.