Page 110 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
I take a step back.
I cannot allow myself to feel anything for Storm Sandoval, because all he knows how to do is hurt.
“I’m…going to my room now,” I say, and I flee up the stairs without another word.
He doesn’t stop my retreat.
Pizza boxes layopen on the kitchen island: a large meat lover for Tempest and me; a medium-sized plain cheese pizza for Raiden.
It’s late for us to have dinner, around nine p.m., but jetlag being what it is, we all fell asleep in the middle of the day and woke up starving.
I don’t know the protocol for Storm’s home, so I asked one of the guards to take us to get pizza somewhere good nearby.
That was an immediate negative, and I was told that neither I nor the children wereallowedto leave the premises without Storm’s knowledge or presence.
Which had me right on the verge of exploding at the bewildered-looking security guard.
Luckily for him, I had both kids with me, and I don’t like them seeing me lose my shit, so I gave the man a tight smile and asked him in my sweetest voice to secure a delivery.
The kids work at their plates in silence.
Tempest looks uncharacteristically worried, her gaze moving between her plate and her sullen twin. The hood of his jacket hangs low over his eyebrows as he hunches over the paper plate provided by the restaurant.
It’s not hot outside, so I don’t know why he’s wearing a hoodie. He seemed content, maybe even happy, earlier today when he held on to Storm’s hand. Now, he’s quieter than ever, and I can practically feel the anger radiating off him.
When Tempest looks at me, however, she doesn’t show concern, but rather outright hostility.
Thatattitude I’m used to.
“Not too bad, huh? You never know what you’ll get when you try a new place, but really, how far wrong can you go with pizza?” I ask, trying to go for a light tone.
Tempest blinks at me with thatMom, you’re so cringelook, and Raiden takes another bite of his pizza, finishing the slice up to the crust.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over the soft Chanel leisurewear I’d thankfully remembered to pack.
Taking in both kids, I know we’ll have to talk about the huge, life-changing events that happened today.
I owe them that much.
“Tems, Rai,” I start. “About earlier today…meeting your father.” Raiden grabs another slice of pizza, dropping it on his plate with a fraction too much force before taking a sip of his lemonade.
“What questions do you have?” I ask, looking from Tempest to Raiden and back. Raiden bends over his plate more, pulling the cheese off a slice and leaving behind the sauce-covered dough.
“I have a question,” Tempest says, sitting up straight. “When can we go home?”
She would ask that question.
“I’m not completely sure, honey,” I reply honestly. I’d given them a super sanitized version of the car chase to explain the slight bruising on my cheek. “Since I was in the car accident, your dad wants to make sure everything is completely safe before we discuss next steps.”
There. That’s a solid answer.
Tempest tilts her head to the side and stares at me, and the move is so much like her father, I almost wish he were eating with us to see it.
Nope. No time to want domestic shit like that.
“Is he a drug dealer?” Tempest asks, her expression unchanging. I choke on my spit, coughing to clear my airway.
“What? Tempest, what in the world kind of question is that! No, your father isnota drug dealer. Where did you even hear of such a thing?” I reply, and she rolls her eyes—a move that would have gotten me beat if my daddy were still around.
