Isabelle’s dark eyebrows raised in an uncanny echo of her son’s favorite expression. “It’s a start.”
“Let’s not interrogate the woman just yet,” Mary protested. “She’s had a hard night.”
The brunette sniffed. “Our son intends to make her his anchor at the earliest opportunity. There isn’t much time to decide if we like her or not.”
Mary opened her mouth to protest, but Francesca stopped her. Figuring she was already in the shitter and a little bit of extra crap wouldn’t make a difference, she asked, “What do you want to know?”
Stepping away from the door jamb, Isabella prowled into the room on silent feet. She didn’t blink when she held Francesca’s stare. “Who are your parents?”
“I was adopted by Will and Donna Woods when I was five.”
Isabelle pursed her lips. “They didn’t change your name?”
“I’d had it for five years. They thought it might upset me to change it,” Francesca answered. To sever that last link with Billie would’ve killed her, so she was fiercely glad her parents had the foresight to keep it.
“Biological parents?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. All I got from them was a weird blood type and a good ass.” She held the vampire’s stare, her fingers curling in her lap. “I was born here, in Grim’s Mercy Hospital and given up the same hour. I spent the first five years in a children’s home before my parents found me and we moved to the Elvish Protectorate.”
While Mary made soft sounds of empathy, Isabelle remained stone-faced. “Education.”
“Bachelor’s in history.”
The woman’s dark eyes gleamed. “Tell me why you volunteered for the Blood Games when our son had already clearly communicated his interest.”
Stumbling a bit for the first time, Francesca swallowed hard. Word really did travel fast in the syndicate, or perhaps simply among Amauris.
Picking her words carefully, she explained, “I don’t know that hedidcommunicate it clearly. I was under the impression that he just wanted a casual relationship, which wouldn’t work for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not interested in them,” she answered honestly. “And especially not with someone I had real feelings for.”
Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “Even when he could’ve offered you the financial help you so clearly needed?”
Francesca stood up from the stool. Lifting her chin, she answered, “Especially then. I needed the money to help my parents and to find someone who’s been missing a long time. I was offered a chance to get it and I took it. That was naive of me, sure, but I don’t think a lot of people would’ve hesitated. It never even crossed my mind to try using Luis for his money. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask him how many times I’ve turned his help down —today.”
Still, Isabelle’s expression didn’t change. Stepping closer, she leaned down from her great height to look deeply into Francesca’s eyes when she asked, “Do you love our son, Francesca Sinclair?”
“Yes,” she breathed, “and that scares the shit out of me.”
A beat passed before a slow, predatory smile spread across Isabelle’s perfect mouth. “Good,” she declared, pressing one barely there kiss to her cheek, then the other. Practically floating back to her wife, she added, “I expect a grandchild by next year.”
“I would very much like to take a shower now,” Francesca announced a little too loudly.
Smothering a smile, Mary scurried to the door, where her mate tucked her into her side. “Just call if you need anything, all right?”
“Right,” she answered, watching the door close. Padding over to the shower, she muttered to herself, “You know, I thought I’d know when I got married.”
TWENTY-FIVE
After much heateddebate between Luis, Milo, their parents, Dahlia, and Felix — who’d been both exactly like and nothing close to what she’d imagined — it was determined that removing the target of Malachi’s current ire was the best option.
Malachi would behandled,according to a wild-eyed Felix, but the only surefire way to permanently end the threat to Francesca specifically was to“get on with it.”At which point in the conversation everyone had looked pointedly at Luis.
He hadn’t been happy. Luis argued his case with his family for well over an hour, demanding the chance to end Malachi himself, but Felix refused him again and again.
“He thinks he can get away with targeting you,”Felix had explained.“He thinks we don’t care enough to defend our own. That’s his oversight, and that’s where we’ll get him. But right now the interest in Frankie is way too fuckin’ high across the board. I’m sending you both away. End of discussion.”