He stared at the phone for a long moment before declining the call and setting it face down on the table. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“Yes, weare.”
“Isabella—”
His phone buzzed. A text this time. He picked it up, read it, and his jaw tightened.
I didn’t need to ask. Whatever it was, it was his business, and I wanted no part of it. Especially for Adele.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin, downed the rest of my coffee and stood. “I’ve got to go. There’s a meeting at the office I can’t miss.”
Dimitri rose too. “And what about my daughter?”
I froze.
“You won’t be able to keep her away from me, Isabella,” he said quietly. “You can’t keep her away from me.”
“Maybe that’s for the best, Dimitri. Because over my dead body will my daughter suffer the same fate I did at the hands of your family.”
With that, I walked away, meeting Adele halfway despite her whining to say goodbye to Dimitri.
Chapter Thirteen
Isabella’s POV
Today was…emotionally exhausting.
From the meeting with the investors that didn’t go too well—they were demanding a twenty-five percent profit from Crane’s start-up in Virginia, which was ridiculous to say the least—to walking into my office and finding Dimitri there with my daughter. And eventually spending the entire afternoon with him.
I sighed, smoothening Adele’s hair and adjusting her blanket. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of telling her yet another bedtime story about the dragon prince. I smiled faintly at her peaceful frame as she breathed lightly. Adele was always a happy child, but there was something in her smile today when she was with Dimitri. There was a comfort, a satisfaction I’d never seen before.
The first time she asked me about her father was at her school’s end-of-term party. Most of her classmates’ parents came in twos—the full package: father, mother, and child. I was the only one who came alone. She’d tried not to act bothered by it, tried to be brave the entire evening, but when they called for the father-daughter dance, I saw her face fall. I noticed how sad she’d been for the rest of the party, andduring the unusually quiet drive home, she’d looked up at me with questioning eyes and asked, “Mommy, why don’t I have a father?”
I had never felt my heart break quite like that. Crane had been a steady presence in her life, but there was only so much he could do. I’d known she’d ask this question one day, but I didn’t envision it would come so soon. Not when she was four.
All I could tell her was that her father wasn’t around—and might not be for a long time.
Now, watching her breathe in quiet rhythm, replaying how natural she’d acted around Dimitri, how her laughter melted his usually stoic face, how his voice softened every time he said her name, I couldn’t stop wondering. Would it really be so wrong to let Adele know who her father truly was? To let them bond?
I sighed again, exhaustion weighing on every muscle. I needed sleep. I needed to forget this day. After kissing her hair, I quietly shut her door and padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. The buzzer in the living room rings, jolting through the silence.
I glanced at the wall clock. It was only eight-thirty, but I wasn’t expecting a delivery or anything.
I moved into the living room and answered.
“Ms. Crawford,” Anderson, the penthouse receptionist, said. “There’s someone here to see you. He says his name is Dimitri Ravencrest.”
I froze. Dimitri? What the hell was he doing here at this hour? And how the hell did he find my address?
Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dimitri had resources—and by resources, I meant Edmund. He could find anything and anyone with just a name. That was why I’d changed my name five years ago.
“Should I send him up, ma’am?” Anderson asked when I didn’t answer.
I should’ve said no.
But instead, I found myself saying, “Yes, Anderson. Send him up.”
It was to give him a stern warning not to show up at my office or my home, I told myself. But deep down, I wanted to see him.