Chapter twelve
NATALIE POV
I was still seated on his lap.
And somehow, that was the part I couldn't get past.
Not the part that Angela Grey had walked into his bedroom like it was her right.
Not the name mentioned—the Albanians.
Not even the bandages I had rewrapped with care.
I was sitting on Sebastian Matteo's lap at the dining table, and my body was at ease.
It shouldn't.
Mrs. Sarah moved quietly around the dining table, setting down plates with the practiced ease of a woman who had witnessed strange things in this house. She set the table with effortless precision.
She placed a glass of orange juice near my hand like I was seated where I was supposed to be.
I reached for the fork.
Daniel and Elijah were seated across the table, their focus deliberately diverted elsewhere.
