I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two by Knight, Natasha (books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

have been looking at the pictures. There was one in particular that caught his eye.” I take a moment, look away as I consider. Should I tell him? What if Noah’s wrong? What if he isn’t but it’s still too late?

“What is it, Scarlett?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“What?”

“He could be wrong. I mean, it’s been ten years and they were both so little.”

His forehead wrinkles. He takes hold of my arms and squeezes. “Tell me.”

“He recognized one of the girls. Elizabeth’s friend.”

“What?”

“Someone had written the names of all the little girls on the back.”

“That’s what my brother saw? Noah with that photo?”

Should I be surprised Dante mentioned it? “Yes.”

“He shouldn’t—”

“He recognized her, Cristiano. He recognized Mara.”

This stops him. “What?”

“He didn’t know her name, but he knew her face.”

Cristiano shakes me once. “What are you talking about?”

“He said they’d brought her to Mexico. He said Jacob had been fed up when she wouldn’t stop crying and told him to play with her. Jacob told him her name was Elizabeth but he’s pretty sure it was Mara from the picture.”

“How?”

“You said Mara’s body wasn’t found. They left a mess. They wouldn’t have hidden one body or disposed of one body. It makes no sense considering.”

“What are you saying, Scarlett?”

“Is it possible they kidnapped Mara thinking she was Elizabeth?”

21

Cristiano

My head is swimming with thoughts of what Scarlett told me. Noah is off the island with some of the men, so I haven’t been able to question him. I haven’t told Dante or Lenore. I won’t. Not until I can make sense of it myself.

Is it possible Mara’s alive? Did they kidnap her thinking she was Elizabeth? To what end?

Blackmail? Who? They’d thought they’d killed us all.

But there’s one thing that makes sense and the thought makes me sick.

I take a deep breath in. I need to stay focused on the task at hand. If Mara’s alive, I will get her back. Bring her home.

“Sir,” the soldier peeks his head into my uncle’s study. I’m sitting behind my uncle’s desk looking through the photo album I found on it. “He’s pulling in now.”

“Thank you.”

I turn the page on the album and look at more photos of my mom. My brothers and sister. None of my dad in this one, but he was gone a lot. More of my uncle in these than there are in the albums at home. I’m just closing the album when I hear him having an exchange with the soldier I left standing outside the study door. A moment later, the door opens, and my uncle stands framed in the light of the hallway.

He takes me in as I stand from his seat. I look him over, pick up the tumbler of whiskey and finish it. It’s not my brand, but it’ll do.

“What the fuck, Cristiano?”

“Close the door,” I tell him.

“Oh, I should close the door to my own office behind me? I’ll ask you again. What. The. Fuck?”

But he enters and closes the door.

“And where’s Morgan?”

“Morgan?”

“The butler.”

“Oh.” I always forget his name. But seriously? A fucking butler? “He’s having coffee.” With my men in the kitchen for the last hour. I didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.

My uncle’s gaze shifts to the photo album on the desk. I pour us both a drink.

“Your brand is in the cabinet underneath,” he says.

“This will do.” I hand him his and lean on the desk as he takes a seat on the armchair along the wall.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know the doctor who had treated me all those years had been killed.”

“Excuse me?”

“The doctor. When I was in the coma.”’

“Oh, him. Yeah, it was tragic. I heard about it the morning after it happened.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“You had more important things to worry about. Besides, I found you a new doctor. Why are you here? Like this? What’s this about, Cristiano?”

“Did you know the drug he gave me would cause me to lose my memories?”

He exhales, shakes his head and sips his drink. “It was a possibility, yes. I knew that. But it was the only option. Your life was what mattered at that point. You were barely holding on. Did you want me to take a chance with your life when your brother was counting on you?”

Guilt. I drink more whiskey. “I don’t remember them,” I say.

He sighs deeply. “It’s possible you’ll remember someday.”

“I doubt it.” I walk around the desk and open the album again to look at the photo of mom on her own. She’s lying back on a pool chair, huge hat on her head, legs strewn over the arm of the chair as she reads. I get the feeling she didn’t know she was being observed or that someone had taken the photo. She was always skittish when the camera came out. Said she didn’t look like herself in pictures.

My uncle is beside me then. “She was a beautiful woman.” He brushes dust I don’t see off the image.

I shift just my gaze to study him, hearing something strange in his words, remembering what Charlie said.

Was I blind?

His eyes meet mine and for the briefest of moments, I see something foreign. Something cold.

But he blinks and it’s gone. And he’s the man he’s always been to me. He smiles and the familiar lines crease the skin around his eyes. It’s just my imagination.

“Sometimes it’s better to forget, Cristiano.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’ll tell you about her. About all of them.”

“What did the couple you had me kill do to support the massacre of my family?”

“You mean the massacre of our family.”

I wait for his answer.

“Let me show you,” he says, moving around his desk to unlock a drawer. “I didn’t want you to see these. I didn’t want to bring up old pain. Forgotten pain. But someone’s put a bug in your ear, and you’re determined, I see.”

He takes out a manila envelope, opens it to glance at whatever is on the first page before turning to me.

“Are you sure?” he