“You don’t really know my father,” she laughed derisively, thinking of all the horrible things her father had been convicted of plus all the other brutal actions the authorities couldn’t find evidence of. “He was bad. Really bad. And you don’t actually know who I am.”
He sighed and put the knife down, coming around to the other side of the counter to take her hands in his. He pulled her over to the low sofa, sitting down next to her. “Sierra, whatever your father did in the past, it doesn’t affect how I feel about you. And it doesn’t make you a criminal by association.”
She choked and shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his patience but he wanted to yell at her that he knew that she wasn’t a bad person. “Possibly because you aren’t explaining it to me very well. Perhaps if you could start from the beginning, I might have a better grasp on what you’re trying to tell me.” It occurred to him that he was having a slightly ridiculous conversation. He was trying to convince a woman he’d just made love to that she wasn’t horrible?
Yes, the day definitely could have started out better if he’d had any say it.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and nodded. He was right. She wasn’t making any sense and was just jumbling this up even more by her bits and starts regarding the real problem.
“I knew you before you came to Denver,” she said softly, staring down at her fingers which were clasped tightly in her lap. “I saw you one day at a party my father was throwing. In Chicago.” She didn’t wait for his reaction. Standing up, she started pacing the kitchen area once again, needing to move because of the nervous energy that was building up. “You must have done something to offend my father, because the next thing I knew, you were being thrown into the back of a car, then dumped into an alley.” Every muscle in her body tensed with fear. “My father’s name is Joe Berutelli. I’m his daughter. I changed my name when I left his house, not wanting to have anything to do with him.”
“No!” he almost growled, standing up and coming up behind her. “You’re Sierra Berutelli?” He still wasn’t angry with her, but he could tell that his reaction didn’t convey that message to this sweet, terrified woman.
She couldn’t speak, so she simply nodded her head in shame.
Drake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And then it struck him. The scent! The honeysuckle. He bent forward, inhaling her fresh scent but she smelled like his own soap. But he thought back to the other times he’d held her in his arms, that familiar scent that he’d never been able to place.
“You’re the girl!” he said with a strange tone. His hands grabbed her upper arms, spinning her around. He’d finally found her! After years of searching and dead ends, she was here in his arms! “How did you know I was dumped into an alley?” he demanded.
The tears were constant now and she blinked to try and focus on him. “Because I followed my father’s goons. I saw them dump you off and drive away.” She was extremely confused now. Why wasn’t he angry with her? Why wasn’t he furious? And what was that exclamation about some girl? She couldn’t help the jealousy that bit into her at the mention of some other woman.
“What did you do?” he demanded, holding her arms even though she was trying to pull free of him. There was no way he was letting her go now! Not now that he’d finally found her! This whole situation was more perfect than he could have imagined! She was Sierra!
She shrugged, trying to loosen his grip but he wouldn’t release her. “I called an ambulance.”
“And went with me to the hospital, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but he deserved to know the whole truth. “I didn’t know what my father was going to do to you that afternoon. I promise that. I just knew that, after seeing some of his men run into his office where you’d disappeared, something was very wrong and I had to help. I wouldn’t even speak to my father after that night. I moved out the following week and I’ve never seen him since. I only know that he died in prison a little over a year after your beating. I can’t even figure out how the authorities finally got to him because no one had ever been able to get close enough to him to find out any evidence on him. He didn’t trust anyone, not even my sister or me. Which was probably a good thing since we would have turned him in as soon as we could.”
“And he would have killed you, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, ashamed that her father had so little family loyalty. Or maybe he always knew that his daughters were repulsed by his activities. She never knew because she’d always been so afraid of him, never challenging him until that night she’d come home after this man’s beating.
She knew that Drake would be furious now that he knew the truth about her heritage. “I’ll go now. I can see my way out.” She started for the door, her feet moving as quickly as possible so that she could get out of his way. He hated her now. And he was fully justified in his hatred.
Drake stopped her once again. He grabbed her by the waist and pressed her back against the wall, his eyes boring into hers so he could find the truth. “You were by my side. All through that time I was unconscious, you were there, weren’t you? In the hospital, sitting with me, talking with me, crying for me when I didn’t make progress every day.”
She couldn’t lie to him as much as she wanted to. “Yes. The nurses thought I was your sister so I just let them believe that.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” She looked up at him, confused by his questions but trying to be as honest as possible. He deserved that and so much more from her family.
He watched her face, his mind about to explode with the impact of what she was telling him. “Why did you stay with me at the hospital? Why did you hold my hand during those first few days? Why did you read to me, sing to me, tell me all those stories?”
“You heard me?” she asked, amazed and slightly embarrassed.
“I felt your hair on my arm while you slept by my side. Your hair tickled my arm several times but I could never see your face. I tried so often to be awake the next time you came to visit, but I only remember your perfume.” He shook his head with a slight smile. “Or more accurately, your shampoo. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I just remembered the honeysuckle scent. It was you. All this time, it was you!”