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The rage slowly leaves his eyes as he lowers his gun.
“He’s a fucking American,” my father says, disappointed.
My breath comes out shaky as I run to Dawson. My need to touch, kiss, and claim him again is a very serious thing.
He claims me equally.
Desperately and unapologetically.
We stay like that for several moments before Rya’s voice echoes in the alley, “What the actual fuck? We come back from our honeymoon for… what exactly is this?”
“A clean-up job,” Crue says as he pushes past my father and looks at the dead man on the ground. “You gave me the wrong address,” he says to Dawson.
“Things changed.” Dawson shrugs.
“And how the fuck do you think you’re going to cover up this one?” Rya asks with hands on hips.
Crue looks at her, almost confused. “Well, firstly, I own this restaurant andeveryone who works here, and secondly, it turns out I have a sexy criminal lawyer for a wife as backup.”
She chokes out a laugh. “Backup?” And I can tell honeymoon sex has come to an end.
I can’t help but laugh as the atmosphere of today’s events lightens. The very world I had been ignorant of, yet still a part of, crashed into Dawson’s world.
Men stride into the alley and efficiently wrap the body.
I watch them, my head resting on Dawson’s shoulder. He’s observing them carefully, his expression hard. His polished mask is firmly back in place.
My father approaches us, and I freeze, unsure if he’s reconsidered what he most likely thinks of as his “generosity.”
“I don’t know how you Americans do it, but we usually prefer our killings a little less obvious.”
Rya gives a pointed look at our father because the truth is, Crue is anything but discreet. He point-blank shot Rya’s boss at her thirtieth birthday party in a room full of people.
“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Ricci,” Dawson says with his arm around my waist.
My father harrumphs at him. “But if you look after my daughter, you do it right. Traditionally.”
My heart floods at his approval.
Finally.
I jump at my father, my hug surprising him. “Thank you, Papa.”
“I still don’t like him. Pretty Boy,” he mumbles, but I can tell his opinion of Dawson has changed. I let go of Father and take my rightful place beside Dawson.
It’s a bizarre way to get my father’s approval, but then I wonder if anyone could have done it any other way.
“Why did you throw away the gun?” I ask Dawson. “My father was going to kill you.”
He smiles as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I know you love your family, Honey. And their approval is important to you. I have no reason to be in this world if I can’t be by your side.”
I slap him on the shoulder, a blush heating my cheeks. I love his answer, but it’s humiliating and always only for me to hear.
Dawson has a reputation to uphold, after all.
CHAPTER 57
Honey
