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“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “Maybe tear it down. Or repurpose it. Make it a safe house or recovery center. I don’t honestly know right now. Whatever I decide, I won’t make the final call alone. Not this time.”
Understanding moved through the silence on the other end of the line. “With your sisters, then,” he said.
“Yes. And if they don’t want any part of it, that is okay, too. But I have to do this.”
My fingers curled tighter around the phone as I shifted my weight, pacing a few steps before stopping again. Why was he being so quiet? Dammit, I wish it were a FaceTime call, then I could gauge his truth. Each second that ticked by had my anxiety growing.
“I have the means,” I blurted out. “My grandparents left me enough. I’ve never touched it. It’s just been… sitting there.”
My fingers brushed absently against the fabric of my pocket, feeling the outline of the stick I’d tucked away earlier.
“Marcel. Can you say something? Please.”
“We’ll make sure it’s done properly. I know better than to argue when a Caruso sounds so certain.”
Relief moved through me, easing the edge I’d been holding.
“Thank you.”
My attention snapped back to the house as movement caught my eye.
“Does this mean you’ll talk to Bash for me?”
“I will. And we’ll do everything we can to persuade her to sell it. Where is Pasha?”
My lion emerged from the side of the house. There was beauty in the way he carried himself—controlled, contained—that made my chest tighten.
“I see him now,” I said, softer this time, stepping forward without realizing I’d moved.
He had them. I ended the call without another word. The phone slipped from my hand into my pocket as I closed the distance between us. The frames were stacked carefully in his arms, edges protected, held with that same level of care he had for the dolls.
Everything about that made it hard to breathe around. I reached for them immediately, my hands unsteady as I took the first one from him. My fingers traced the edge before I even looked at the image, like I needed to confirm it was real before anything else. It was.
A sob caught in my throat as I pulled another into my arms, holding them close, pressing them against my body like they might disappear if I let go. My sweet sisters. All of us together. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing did except the fact that they were back with me. That they hadn’t been lost. That the pieces I’d left behind had been waiting. For this moment in time. Waiting for me. I shifted them carefully, adjusting my hold.
The frames dug into my forearms. Pasha stepped forward immediately.
“Here, let me take a few—”
Before I even realized what I was doing, I jerked the stack away from him. “No.”
The response came out sharper than I intended. My heart lurched. The movement startled us both. He froze in surprise. Hurt. The moment it registered, heat flooded my cheeks. His gaze softened instantly.
“Princess.”
The single word made me feel worse. He lifted both hands and took a small step back, giving me space. “I’m only trying to help so you don’t drop them.”
The protective instinct I’d felt moments earlier suddenly seemed ridiculous. These were paintings, not people. Yet standing there with them, logic and emotion weren’t operating on the same wavelength.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Pasha nodded once. Then, because he was Pasha, he let it go.
“How about this?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. “You take them to the car. I’ll lock everything up.”
