The Fortunates (Unfortunates #2) (13 page)

He reaches out and takes my hand again.

“I lost everything the moment my father brought you into my office.” Splaying my fingers over his palm, he slips the ring to the first knuckle. “I’ve fought hard to hold on to it, but you’ve pried it from my fingers.” Sliding the ring the rest of the way, our eyes lock and the pulse of my heart thrums loudly in my ears. “Your happiness is the only thing that matters to me. The
only
thing.”

Kade cups my face in his large hands and kisses me deeply. My head spins and my nerves are unable to properly react to my heart as it slams itself into my ribs, threatening to shatter each rib. It hurts in the most delightful way.

In a single moment, I’ve gone from being one in one, to one in two. That’s the start of a family, the start of a love so colossal it’d take a miracle to destroy.

That’s what Kade is now. He’s family.
My
family.

My right hand man.

My partner in crime.

My future husband.

Chapter Thirteen

Nine

I wake up early with nothing to do. Can you believe it? I’m lying in a bed—my bed—and it has blankets and pillows. It’s so soft it just about swallows me up.

Kade left early, claiming he had some business things to take care of. He ordered me to meet him in the backyard for breakfast when the time for eating came. Since my house, the Milano residence, is both mourning a loss and celebrating a new arrival, we are the hosting house for the next month. The other three main houses and everyone that dwells inside them will eat each meal here.

With me.

I’d rather stay in bed, but John Milano has announced his presence at breakfast and I feel I should apologise…or thank him for the room. He should hate me. It’s because of me his wife was shot in front of everyone…but he doesn’t. He still allows me to reside in his house. I wonder why…

Exhaling, I kick off the blankets. I’ve probably left Kaden waiting too long. A second longer and he’ll kick my doors down, raging like the bull he is.

I get dressed quickly. From my cupboard of seemingly endless garments, I choose the one least likely to draw attention. Though the mission seems impossible as I flick past elegant gown after elegant gown, I finally find a hidden gem halfway down the rack.

White. Plain. Unremarkable. Perfect.

I slip into the dress with ease and pull my messy hair around my shoulders. This feel fake. Who would have thought I’d ever miss my battered tunics? Shifting uncomfortably, I adjust the skirt and tug on the dress’s long sleeves, covering the scrapes and bruises along my arms. I analyse myself from head to toe. Every inch of my body is covered in a thin sheet of white cotton, save for my neck, head, and my toes that peep out from underneath the hem. Its fabric is soft and lovely. It’s how I imagine fluffy clouds to feel and it’s nothing like the scratchy tunic I’m used to.

I rake my fingers through my hair a few times, working out tangles and knots that accumulated while I was sleeping. I do everything I can to stall leaving the room. I even contemplate climbing back into bed, but as I turn toward it, there’s a knock at the door.

I freeze.

The knock is soft, yet impatient. The knock has Kaden Sario written all over it. I drag an inhale through my nose and hold it in my chest as I cross the room to the door. Exhaling, I grip the handle and turn it. Creaking, the door opens and Kade’s fresh face is revealed.

His furrowed brow smooths out at the sight of me and I wait in silent panic as his dark stare sweeps over my body. Is the dress too plain? Not plain enough?

Unexpectedly, an amused gleam sparkles in his eyes.

“Your dress is on backwards,” he points out, his lips quirking at the corners as he fights a rare smile.

Is it? I glance down. How can he tell?

Kade steps forward and I step back, letting him into my room. With calculated grace, he kicks the door closed behind him and it slams shut. I swallow, a little embarrassed I didn’t successfully dress myself.

“Arms up,” he says and I do as I’m told.

Kade’s large hands slide against my hips as he bunches the dress in his fists and lifts it up and over my head. I avoid eye contact with him, but I feel his amused stare on my face as he turns the dress around and lifts it over my head.

“You’re pouting,” he states as I slip my arms into the sleeves. “Why?”

“I want to lead an army, but I can’t even dress myself?” I tug on my sleeves to cover my blemishes. “It’s pathetic.”

“You have me.”

I peer up at him and just about lose my breath. I’ve never seen him so content. Lips that are typically pressed into a firm, thin line curve so effortlessly and his eyes—eyes that are usually void of humour and light—now glimmer with specks of his soul. Did I do that? Did the promise of our union do that?

“You ask a question, I answer it. You make a mistake, I fix it.” He glances at my dress. “You put your dress on backwards, I turn it around. We’re a team.”

The thought warms my heart.

“You’re not mad that I’m late for breakfast?”

Kade shakes his head and saunters over to the wardrobe. “I wasn’t down there holding my breath, that’s for sure.”

He laughs as he bends low and pulls out a pair of white flats. Straightening himself, he holds out the shoes and says, “Come. There are some blueberries with my name on them.”

∞

I clench Kade’s arm tighter in my hand as the curious stares of other Fortunates stick to me. I cower beside him, unable to bring myself to feel the same mock-confidence I felt last night. Kade, however, manages to keep his head high. Always proud. Always straight-shouldered and powerful.

“So much for going unnoticed,” I murmur.

“Enjoy the bright morning sun.” He glances at me. “We’re not here for
them
.”

I stop, digging my heels into the ground. The soles of my shoes press into the mud. Kade stops and turns into me, shielding me from those watching. His black irises flicker over my face and glisten with concern. Panic seizes my chest as an uncomfortable heat creeps over my skin and climbs my neck.

“What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

I focus on his broad shoulders, shoulders that are sheathed in a white button up shirt and a crisp black two button jacket.

“I want to go back inside,” I whisper harshly.

He slides his hands against my hips and the feel of them traps me. I press my palms against his stomach and try to push away from him, but he doesn’t let me go. Why won’t he let me go?

“Please,” I beg, trying desperately to free myself from his grip.

Tears well in my eyes and lumps form in my throat. I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here. I have no right. I’m an imposter—a fake.

“Hey.” Kade cups my face, forcing our eyes to lock. “Relax.”

He runs his thumbs over my cheekbones, but it isn’t enough to calm my nerves.

“I can’t relax,” I tell him. “They’re terrifying. I’m scared,
please
.”

“They can’t hurt you.”

I try to pull away, but he holds me in place.

“
Listen
. They can’t hurt you. All right?”

My heart races, my ribs quaking in response. Cautiously, Kade moves his hands from my face. He shifts one to the back of my head and the other to the small of my back. I squeak as he pulls me in close, wrapping my body up in his long, thick arms. He cranes his neck and rests his cheek against mine. I sigh. The loud sounds of breakfast are muted by his jacket, by this force field he’s surrounded me with. I can’t move. My arms are squished between his chest and mine, but I feel safe. I close my eyes and breathe him in. The scent of soap and baked bread engulfs me and it finally calms the frantic beat of my heart.

“What is it?” he whispers into my ear. “Tell me what it is so I can make it better.”

I pause. Even as an Unfortunate I’ve never been this on edge. What has triggered it? Is it the fear of them discovering my plans? When they look at me, can they see my impending betrayal? Or is it the disapproval in their eyes? I wiggle my toes and they touch the inside of my shoes, sending another bolt of breathlessness through me. I struggle against Kade until my lungs threaten to burst. A sob slips from me and I drop my head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s the shoes.” I wiggle my toes again and panic bursts through my body. “They’re suffocating me.”

“I’ll fix it, okay? Just…no more crying.”

I sniffle and nod. No more crying.

Kade’s slow to release me, but when he does I keep my eyes on him. I don’t want to see anyone else. Gracefully, Kaden crouches low and lifts my dress above my ankle. People gasp at the sight of him bowed before me. It matters to them that he is a Fortunate on his knees in front of an ex-Unfortunate and it matters to them that he is a man on his knees in front of a woman. What they’re witnessing is abnormal. It’s abhorred.

“Kaden, you don’t have to—”

Sliding one soft palm underneath my calf and the other around my ankle, he slips off my shoes. My feet sink into the ground. There’s something awfully comforting about having the bare soles of my feet against the damp earth.

“Better?” he asks, carrying my shoes in his hand.

I nod, forcing steel into my spine as he leads me across the yard littered with Fortunates and Unfortunates alike. Children chase each other, their squeals meshing beautifully with the sounds of eager chatter and the gentle tinkling of cutlery. I peer at Kade, who glances at the children as they zip past us. He tenses at their proximity, his lips pursing with impatience.

“You don’t like children?” I wonder aloud and his throat bobs as he swallows.

“I’m working on it,” he simply says with a frown before peering down at me. “I’m sure I’d like our children when the time comes.”

That’s an interesting notion.

I smile, despite the Fortunates still watching me. “I should hope so.”

Kade escorts me to an empty table in the last quadrant of the outdoor dining area. When we sit, curious stares begin to fade as people grow bored of us. I don’t know what they expect. Tension? Drama? Me to grow a third arm? All we want is breakfast. We’re not here to disturb anyone.

To be honest, I thought the ogling Fortunates would be the worst part about breakfast, but they don’t come close to the stomach turning presence of the Unfortunates. They bring fruit and juice. They load our table with toast and cereals, meats, and vegetables. They bring more food than Kade and I can eat in a whole month. More food than I’ve eaten in my entire life…and I’m finally allowed to taste it all if I really want to.

Sadly, I don’t.

I don’t want any of it. I can’t. How can I sit here and eat foods I’ve dreamed about tasting while someone else works on an empty stomach?

Without thought, Kade scoops berries into a small bowl and fills his champagne flute with icy water. I watch as the glass fogs and he lifts it to his full lips. The rim presses against his lower lip and he pauses. Our eyes lock. He lowers the glass.

“Eat.”

I shake my head and hug myself, dropping my elbows against the table. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“The people that served you this beautiful banquet had a disgusting, stale porridge for breakfast.”

“What do you want me to do?” he demands in a hushed whisper. “My hands are tied for the moment.”

I drop my stare to the table, willing my stomach not to shoot bile up my throat. Kade picks at food and fills a plate. He manoeuvres his arms and hands with irritation as if he’s choosing food for a fussy toddler. Exhaling, he slides the plate in front of me. There are slices of fruit and squares of pale cheese scattered around two small, thin pancakes.

“You’ll like these. Squeeze the lemon over your sugar covered pancakes, but be meagre with it. It’s sour.”

My stomach turns. “Kade…”

His exasperated expression smooths out, his eyebrows curving in surrender. “I’d appreciate it if you ate something.
Please.
”

His pleading eyes are hard to ignore. Placing my hands on either side of my plate, I exhale through my nose. I finally have all of this food at my fingertips and I don’t even want to taste it?

“Anna. It’s good to see you.” I leap out of my chair at the sound of John Milano’s voice and whirl on my heel.

He approaches our table from behind, wearing a plain black suit with matching leather shoes. My greeting is trapped in my throat. What do I say to him? How do I apologise for what happened to Kathryn? I thread my fingers together behind my back and glance at Kade, who sighs and pushes himself out of his chair, taking charge of the interaction.

I can’t talk to John. The words refuse to climb my throat.

“John.” Kade extends his hand. “Good morning.”

They shake hands and John peers out over the field, his light eyes scanning everything. He’s happier than I thought he’d be and he has definitely put some effort into his appearance. Thirteen and I didn’t really get along, but I was a mess after her death. My heart aches as my churning stomach contracts. Images of her beaten and broken, lying at Vince’s feet, assault my mind. That poor, beautiful girl. It should have been me.