Page 242 of Saving Her

I open my mouth to repeat my protest, only the words don’t come. Yearning clogs my throat instead. It’s a painful, agonizing hunger for closure.

I’d kill to see them. Even if just a glimpse.

The thought of my mother’s smile… the remembered sound of my father’s laugh…

The slightest glimmer would mean the world to me.

“What about Robert?”

He shrugs. “Like Torian said, we wouldn’t leave without protection. I’d make sure we were covered.”

I swallow over the anticipation tingling like wildfire in my stomach. The pounding of my pulse becomes thunderous.

I want this.

With every pain-filled heartbeat, I really, truly want this.

“Okay.” I nod. “But only if you think it’s safe.”

He gives a half-hearted grin. “Let’s get you in the car.”

I scoot from the sofa. “Hold up. Let me get changed first. Can you tell the nanny?”

He inclines his head and then I run for the hall, yanking off my baggy sweater to throw it to the bed.

I pull on jeans, a comfy suede jacket, and a pair of Sketchers before meeting Luca at the front door.

“I’ve arranged the escort.” He releases the deadlock and pulls the door wide. “One of the guards from the gate will lead the way to the restaurant.”

“Good.” I follow Luca to his Suburban, my hands shaking by the time we reach the doors and climb inside.

“You should lie down.” He winces in apology. “We don’t know who’s watching.”

“Not this time, please. I’ll stay on alert. I promise.”

He sighs and starts the engine, not answering my plea.

We drive from the property in silence, following a silver sedan slowly through the streets.

“You look nice…” Luca keeps his attention on the road. “For someone who has no intention of leaving the car.”

My cheeks heat, stupidity warming my face. “It’s silly, I know.” He doesn’t answer, the quiet compelling me to fill the silent void. “Even though they’re not going to see me, I want to look presentable.”

“It makes sense.” He grabs my hand and entwines our fingers. “But you don’t need to explain.”

I ignore the world gliding by around us and focus on him—the one who continues to devote his life to making mine better. But the increasing happiness doesn’t detract from the rampant beat of my heart as we drive closer to my parents.

My palms grow slick with sweat. My throat dries.

“You’re going to be fine,” he murmurs. “It’ll do you good to see them.”

I know.

I really do.

It’s the gravity of the situation. The vulnerability I’ve always feared.

“When you finally do stand face-to-face with them, what will you say?”

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