Page 145 of Broken & Bound

“Safe,” he repeated.

Heat crept into my face. This was the longest conversation we’d ever had. Every interaction before today had been shared across crowded dinner tables or family gatherings. Small talk. Polite conversation. Nothing like this.

“I promise I’m not trying to make things harder. I know I have no right to show up here unannounced. I’m leaving London today. Space is the only thing I have left to give her.”

Vincent leaned back, studying me for a long moment before rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “And you think that’s what’s best?”

“I think respecting Isabella means respecting her boundaries.”

A thoughtful hum escaped him. “I’m glad to hear you respect my daughter enough to listen when she tells you what she needs.”

Relief flickered through me. It lasted all of two seconds.

“But what if I told you not to?”

“Excuse me…sir?”

“Call me by my name, son. You’ve earned that right.”

“I’m not sure that I have.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“My wife said she’d never seen another soul as devastated as you when she asked you not to return on Isabella’s behalf. But by my estimations, you’ve given Isabella plenty of space. It’s been almost two months. How much more space do you think she needs?”

I stared at my shoes, feeling inadequately equipped for this conversation. But he was waiting for an answer.

“A lifetime is what I imagine. She lost everything and ultimately that’s laid at my feet. I accept the responsibility for that.”

Even saying the words hollowed me out. As painful as it was, I lifted my gaze and stared into the man’s eyes. He nodded and then shifted forward, leaning toward me.

“Son, sometimes the space we need in the beginning isn’t the space we need forever. Sometimes too much distance becomes another kind of prison. Sometimes, all that space does is make the mountain between two people look so impossibly high that neither one believes it’s climbable any more.”

“I’m so lost in all this. Every move feels wrong ninety percent of the time.”

Man, that felt good to admit. The air moved through my lungs a little easier. The weight lifted.

“Pasha, indulge an old man for a minute. I’ve spent the better part of thirty years married to an Italian woman, and I’ve raised one. They’re remarkable. They’re also unbelievably stubborn.”

“So is your son,” I replied, unable to stop the small smile that surfaced.

He chuckled, the sound filling the space. Damn, it was connection that I was missing. He was providing it, and I was soaking it up. Another reason this entire family dynamic was everything to me.

“Very true. Some days I think Sebastian is worse than both of them put together. Can I offer you some completely unsolicited advice? Three pointers in how to deal with Caruso women?”

I nodded.

“Patience. Persistence. And enough love to outlast the fear. My daughter has spent her entire life convincing the world she’s stronger than she feels.”

Vincent rested his forearms on his knees.

“When Isabella was eight, she’d often lock herself in her room when she was mad at me. I’d stand on the other side of the door. I’d talk about my day. Read a book out loud. Tell her something ridiculous your future brother-in-law had done.”

I blinked. My heart lurched at his reference to Sebastian as my brother-in-law.

“I had this trick. Where I would say something that was blatantly false. Eventually she’d crack the door open just enough to tell me I was wrong.”