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Alina bit her lower lip. “Dad, will you let Dimitri know that I won’t be in for the practice? I don’t want him thinking that I’m just standing him up.”
Was she serious? The woman was actually worried about that Dimitri douche?
“I just need to rest for a little while, and then I can meet him at the rink,” Alina continued.
No, she was not serious. “Fuck that,” Midas announced flatly.
Alina’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Fuck. That.” He thought his words were pretty clear. He spared her gaping father a glance. “She won’t be practicing today. Tell Dimitri she’s resting. If he doesn’t like that, he can deal with me.” He motioned for the front door. Wait, on second thought, screw motioning for the door. He stalked forward and opened it for Ryker. Time to hit the road. “Good night. Good morning. Whatever the hell it is. My charge needs rest. Her safety comes first, so you’ll excuse me if I drop the polite facade and just tell you to get the hell out.”
Ryker blinked.
Hmmm. Perhaps Ryker had never been told to get the hell out before. Especially not when he technically owned the place. “There’s a first time for everything,” Midas assured him.
Yet still the older man lingered.
“You want me doing my job or not?” Midas snapped.
Ryker seemed to shake himself from his stupor. He lumbered forward and hesitated just a moment before the threshold. “You will protect her?”
“Got her back, didn’t I?” But, so they were clear, he added, “I shouldn’t have been outside. I should have been with Alina. You can damn well bet I won’t be making the same mistake again. I told you I needed to be close. Consider me her freaking shadow from here on out. Wherever she goes, I go.”
Ryker’s fierce mask crumbled. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing her back to me. I-I owe you. I can pay—”
Midas pushed him out of the guesthouse. “Talk soon.” He shut the door. Locked it. Then turned to face Alina.
She still stood on the third stair from the bottom. But her hand wasn’t lightly tracing over the banister any longer. Instead, she clutched it in a death grip.
Okay, so… “Yell.”
A cute little furrow appeared between her brows.
His gaze scanned down her body. She’d put on black yoga pants with a slight flare at the bottom. An oversized, gray sweatshirt dipped down to her thighs. No shoes. Dark blue polish on her toes.
His stare returned to her face. Her delicate jaw had hardened, and he really didn’t like the dark smudges under her eyes. What he hated the most? The bruising along her jaw.
She didn’t say a word. Definitely didn’t do as he’d directed. No yells came from her.
Was she the type not to speak when she got pissed? He didn’t do so well with silence. Midas motioned to himself. Then to her. “Want to get it out?”
“Get what out?” No emotion.
“We both know you want to scream at me.”
Her tongue snaked over her lower lip. “As a rule, I try not to scream at anyone.”
This was not going to end well for him. Taking his time, he closed in on her. And as he neared, she moved to the fourth step from the bottom.
“You don’t need to retreat from me.” He stared at her. “I would never hurt you.”
“Liar.”
It was his turn to blink. “Alina, I—”
“You lied to me from the moment we met, didn’t you?”
Okay, well, at least she wasn’t giving him the silent treatment. “Your father wanted me to work undercover.”
