. . “IT DOES MY heart good to know you’ve finally come to your senses, cara mia.” Katrina avoided Victor’s gaze, her eyes tracing the floral pattern of the wallpaper coating the room around her. The French doors to the balcony of the room she’d been recovering in were thrown open, allowing in the cool air that smelled of summer-turned-autumn. September was approaching and, with it, her trip to Venice. After Victor arrived at the hospital, they’d arranged her transfer to another facility; one that Katrina knew for a fact was run by an associate. Once she was approved for an actual discharge, she was transported to Victor’s three-story penthouse atop one of Manhattan’s most exclusive luxury towers. There, she’d been catered to in grand style as she recovered and rested up for her trip. She had decided not to fight it anymore. She was Victor’s daughter, and as much as she’d tried to run from it, there was no escape. It had followed her and trickled over into the new life she’d tried to make.
