“She’ll thank me one day.”
“Maybe. And maybe not.”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Sam felt as if he were splitting her heart and head wide-open. How could he do this? How could he even talk this way? How was it possible to be so callous…much less about your own child? “Why can’t you give her time,” Sam pleaded. “At least let her finish the school year where she is. Don’t change everything on her overnight. She’s so young. She’s been through so much. Give her time to understand what’s happening…time to adjust.”
He leaned back as their breakfast plates were carried to the table. “She’ll have time,” he said. “She’ll have the next fifteen years to adjust.”
She swayed on her seat. “What kind of man are you?”
His steady gaze held hers, and the way he studied her made her skin prickle, her body tingling with alarm. “The kind who gets what he wants.”
“And what about what other people want?”
“Not my concern.”
Sam’s stomach rose, nearly upending. “God, that’s cold.”
“Yes, but damn practical.”
Conversation finished, Cristiano concentrated on eating his bacon and egg breakfast while Sam tore apart her toast, heartsick.
Sitting there, Sam wished she could do something, wished she could intervene even as she’d foiled the kidnapping attempt three years ago by hurling herself at the kidnapper. She’d used her own body to shield Gabby, and it had worked. Sort of.
Sort of.
Sam’s lower lip quivered and she bit into it ruthlessly. She wasn’t going to let him see how much he upset her, wouldn’t let him have the upper hand again.
She waited until he’d finished his meal and then gathered her coat and purse. “Can we go get Gabby now?”
“You haven’t taken a bite of your toast.”
“Not hungry,” she answered, chilled on the inside. Three years ago she’d saved Gabby, three years ago she’d been brave, heroic. Why couldn’t she find a way to save Gabby today?
It felt bitterly cold outside, the sky like an endless sheet of metal, and Sam shivered on the way to the shop where they bought milk, bread and groceries for dinner. It was a relief to reach the car, where Cristiano immediately turned on the heat. They didn’t speak though, and as Cristiano drove, Sam stared intently out the window, trying not to obsess about Cristiano’s plans for Gabriela, but it was impossible to think of anything else.
“I’ll need your help,” he said abruptly. “I brought the school admissions packet with me, and there’s quite a long list of things she’ll need. Proper uniform, wardrobe, essentials.”
“Cristiano.”
“I’d initially planned on leaving her in her current school,” he continued as though she’d never spoken. “But I was naïve. I thought you could continue taking her to school in the morning, and then picking her up again after, but obviously that’s not going to work, not if I can’t trust you with her.”
“You can.”
“I can’t, and I travel a great deal with my work. Which is why I’ve decided the best place for her is Ludwin’s—”
“Ludwin’s? That’s a boarding school!”
“One of the best in Europe. The waiting list is long. I was lucky they accepted her.”
Sam leaned forward to get a good look at his expression, thinking he was joking, thinking he had to be joking. “Gabby’s not even five yet.”
“She’ll be five next month.”
“Yes, and she thinks she’s having a circus party and has been helping me plan it.”
“I’ll take her to the Monte Carlo’s Royal Circus instead.”
Sam’s mouth opened, closed. She couldn’t make a sound. How could he even consider sending her away? “Have you looked at her, Cristiano? She’s a tiny thing still. Far too young for boarding school. She could be picked on by other children, tormented, and then all the rules, the infractions and punishments—”
“It’ll toughen her up.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes. “No. Toughening up isn’t what you think it is. Toughening up is having your heart broken and your hopes shattered. Toughening up breaks a child down before it builds her up. Don’t do it to her, Cristiano.”
“I’ve been to boarding school. I survived.”
“Yes, survived. But surviving isn’t living. I know. My parents died when I was six. I grew up in a boarding school for orphans. That’s what the Rookery is. A place where children live because they have nowhere else to go, but Gabby has somewhere to go. She has you, she has me—”
“You’re not part of the equation anymore, Samantha.” He shot her a hard look. “I don’t trust you.”
Cristiano felt a twinge of remorse as Sam blanched, her face paling, her eyes huge and dark with pain. He didn’t enjoy hurting women and children. He was a competitor, a fighter, but not malicious, especially not toward those weaker.
He could see the effect his words were having on her. She was in torment, but it was the same torment he’d known these past four and a half years as he battled to get Gabriela back. At first he’d tried to go the legal route, do everything above-board, but Johann had blocked his every move, dragging the custody battle into an endless tangle of court appearances and appointments. He wanted to get his hands on Gabby’s money.
“So why did you want me,” she whispered, looking at him, her blue eyes bruised, her expression wounded. “Why take me from Johann?”
He hesitated for a split second, then realized at the very least, he owed her an honest answer. “There were three reasons. One, I knew wherever you went, Gabby would go. Two, you’re the one that’s kept me from Gabby—”
“Me?”
“If you hadn’t married Johann, Gabby would have been mine years ago.”
“I didn’t know—”
“It doesn’t matter.” The years of waiting for Gabby, and the endless legal wrangling, had taken a toll on his patience. He was done with playing nice. Done with accommodating others at his—or Gabriela’s—expense. “Fortunately I have her back now and I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Do you love her?”
“She’s my family. She’s a Bartolo.” He was determined to make Samantha understand she wasn’t in charge of Gabriela’s future any longer. She had to accept him as Gabby’s guardian.
“You know her sizes,” he continued calmly. “I’ll give you the list Ludwin’s
