Lost & Found

SIX

"Go back to bed."

"No."

"Get. out."

"No!"

"Alexander," Papá whispered, his silver eyes glowing through the darkness between us. I folded my arms across my chest, leaning on the door frame. There was absolutely no way I was leaving. Not until we resolved this. "Get out of my room."

"I had a bad dream."

He scowled. "I don't care."

"Well, I don't care that you're mad at me. I'm sleeping with you and Sammy and if you say another word about it then I'll scream bloody murder. Wake everyone in this estate up and then—"

"Gesu Crísto, get over here." He growled. "If you kick me, snore or try to take off my eye patch then I'm sending you back to the hole you crawled out of." Papa reached out and lifted me onto the bed from under my armpits, plopping me in between him and Sam.

Papá turned over abruptly, his back now facing me. I squirmed beneath his strong arm, inching upward until my temple nestled against his shoulder. "Papá," I whispered, but he didn't respond. I pouted, finding it hard to believe he had fallen back asleep so swiftly.

"Papá," I said again, louder this time.

He was still, too still. Awake.

"Papá!"

He let out a primal, animalistic noise."What do you want, Alexander?"

"To talk to you."

"Not right now."

"Papá," I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. "Please?"

"Alexander," his eye finally peeled open. He grasped the back of my head and ran his thick fingers tenderly through my hair. The feeling was soothing and calmed the guilt building in my stomach.  But he was still mad at me and I hated that.

"You disobeyed me and now you're groveling because I'm not giving you attention. That's not how the world works, you need to grow up."

"First off, I do not know what groundhog or whatever you said means but, I'm mad that you're mad! Not because you're not giving me attention!"

"Come here," Papá bellowed out. He snatched me up once again, forcing me into his arms as he crawled out of bed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs snugly around his waist.

He stalked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Now, Papa's wing of the estate was like a small house of its own. He had a kitchen, living room and even a home theater that I, wasn't allowed into alone even though he never used it, all to himself.

He effortlessly covered the distance in just a few quick, purposeful strides, and with a subtle wave of his hand, he flickered on the lights, revealing the warm, inviting ambiance of the beautiful yet classically designed Italian kitchen. The soft glow illuminated the rustic wooden cabinets, the ornate tiles, and the aroma of freshly cooked pasta that hung in the air.

"Sit." Papá directed, nodding his head to the plush red barstools in front of the lengthy counter.

I didn't hesitate to do as he said, taking a seat and watching as he combed his finger through his wild hair to tame it. He looked exhausted and I felt a bit bad making him wake up just to soothe my nerves. "Do you want sfingi or bruschetta?"

"...Sfingi."

He was letting me have donuts caked with sugar this late? He was going to poison them wasn't he? It was a noble way to go, really. I accepted it.