AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, they didn’t,” Micah cuts in. My head snaps to him.
“What the hell are you talking about, boy?” Dad counters, seriously offended. “What do you know about Eva’s sister and what her care entails?” He walks over briskly, and I try to step in between them to prevent hostility from turning into violence, but Micah won’t let me. He wraps his arm around me and keeps me put, not breaking eye contact with my dad for a single moment.
“You know nothing about her, and you have no idea what kind of problems she’s bringing along.” Dad jams his finger in my direction. “Do you think this pretty package is all you get? Huh? You think she’s all fascinating blue eyes, silky blonde hair and long legs? Well, let me tell you she’s got a sister with schizophrenia, buddy. Which means there’s a chance she carries a recessive gene too, which might become dominant in your children. And that’s just one of the little nothings she didn’t tell you. So, if you want to confront me, don’t just do it for the sake of it. Do it over something you actually know shit about.”
“I’ll tell you what I know shit about,” Micah replies, stepping into Dad’s personal space. “I know that you haven’t been paying for Goldie’s schizophrenia treatment for the past few months because I have taken over those payments. It’s the reason why the money returned to your account. Didn’t you ever wonder about that?” He flashes his teeth, but it’s more of a mockery than a grin. “Sure you did. But then you decided it was an error in the system, and you hoped they wouldn't notice. Better let sleeping dogs lie, right? As for all the payments you made for Eva’s education—-which, let’s be honest, you only did for your own benefit, because it looked good for you—I’ll pay it all back to you, the entire amount, with the interest of your choice.”
Dad’s jaw drops, and the look on his face changes as he begins to realize that Micah isn’t the fuckboy he took him for.
“And if we want to be honest all the way, supporting your daughters financially was the least you could do for them. It was way too little, honestly. You put unthinkable responsibilities on Eva’s shoulders when you left her mom, and you know why? Because you were a selfish, immature brat. A little boy who wanted to bounce around on a playground, not settle down and put his life toward the service of a family. I promise you, Mr. Graham, I’ll do better than that with your daughter.”
Dad inhales sharply, yet before he can say anything, Micah steps so close that he stumbles back.
“Anyway, it doesn’t seem like you’re doing any better by your new family, either. Your wife is scared of you. She’s starving herself to death, probably to fit within your absurd beauty standards and, if my observation skills don’t fail me—and they never do—your children aren’t home because they’d rather be anywhere but here on a Saturday.”
Dad clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, his mouth trembling. He opens it to talk, then closes it again, trying to get his emotions in check. Emotions swinging between anger and curiosity. It’s written all over him.
“Who the fuck are you?” he finally manages.
Micah doesn’t reply—a silent invitation for me to do it for him. To do the honors. So I clear my throat and square my shoulders.
“Dad, may I introduce Duke Micah Royales. He’s, well, he is my, we’re—” I blabber, so Micah reaches inside his leather jacket and produces a small, velvety black box. He pops it open, and I suck in a sharp breath.
A huge diamond peeks out of the dark velvet, my dad’s eyes popping wide at the sight of it. The thing must have cost a real fortune.
“What in the fucking fuck,” Dad mumbles, but I’m not even paying attention anymore. All I’m aware of is Micah as he angles his body to me, lifts my hand between us and slides the ring down my finger so easily, it feels like it was made for me.
“I am your daughter’s future husband.” Then, resting all of his attention on me. “Eva Brannan, here is the first of many future tokens of my commitment and fealty to you,” he declares. “I won’t ask you if you’ll marry me, because we both know the answer to that question. I never gave you a choice, and I’m never going to. You are mine, and I am yours. But, with this ring, I am asking if you’ll accept me as more than that. If you’ll grant me the honor of becoming your next of kin. Becoming the number one person you call when you’re in trouble. The person institutions call when there is an emergency. Let me be everything you need, when you need it. Let me protect, serve and worship you for the rest of our lives.”
By the time he’s done talking, I’m grinning so hard that my cheeks hurt, and happiness has swollen so much in my chest that I’m about to explode. I nod quickly, my voice loud and squeaky.
“Yes, Micah! A million times, yes!” And I mean each and every word. I feel them so deeply that my flesh hums with their energy.
Yes, I’m still fully aware this is the same man who sent blood splattering all over the room we were locked in last night. The same man who gutted his stepfather in front of me. The one who acts as his circle’s torturer, a pathological killer.
And yet I can’t help the love that floods me for the tortured soul inside that package. My feelings for him overflow, and that seems to do him good. It gives him balance. It gives him peace. I’m the only prison he’d ever willingly lock himself in, and I’m more than happy to be that for him.
I wrap my arms around Micah’s neck, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him. But even though his eyes simmer with the need to devour me alive, all he does is close a gentle kiss on my lips. Only then do I remember that my dad and Ginette are gawking at us. I lower down off my tiptoes, yet interlink my hand with Micah’s, facing my father.
“Micah felt it was a matter of respect to do this in front of you,” I say, sounding more in charge of myself than I ever have in front of Dad before. Micah’s declaration charged me with courage and power. “As for me, I just want to let you know that, starting now, Goldie and I are no longer your responsibility, not in any way, shape or form.” I lift my chin. “Micah said all there was to say, and I’ll only add this. Your rights are revoked along with said responsibilities. Since Goldie’s condition makes her dependent on you even as an adult, you will sign all your rights over to me.” It’s not a request. If he tries to battle me on that, I know that Micah will back me up. And by now, Dad must know he doesn’t want Micah as an enemy.
I look from him to Ginette, who seems not only fascinated by what’s happening, but also somehow to be taking secret pleasure in watching her husband get his ego whipped.
“Our lawyers will draft the necessary documents,” Micah says, his hand warm and dependable around mine. “We’ll send them to you within a couple of days.” Then, looking down at me. “I think it’s best if we take care of this before the wedding, so everything is settled by the time we leave for our honeymoon.”
“And who will take care of Goldie while you’re on your honeymoon?” Dad says in a last attempt to save face. To make it look like he cares.
“Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Graham. We have the means to ensure that she gets the best care available on this planet.” Then, with a slight bow of his head. “We’ll be sending you invitations to our wedding soon. We hope you’ll honor us with your presence.”
With that, we turn our backs and head toward the door, smiling widely at each other. It’s a mystery how I can feel so immensely happy after a night of complete horror—or maybe it’s a natural reaction of the brain—respond to an extreme with another extreme. But of one thing I’m certain—the love I feel for this man is way beyond natural human experience. Such feelings can only come from a higher place. Whether it’s from heaven or hell, I don’t know.
“How long have you had the ring?” I ask as I straddle the bike behind him. “When did you have time to get it?”
“I’ve had it since we sort-of-moved-in-together,” he replies, waiting for me to fasten my helmet and wrap my arms around his waist. Once I’m safely settled, he revs up the engine, so there’s no way of knowing if what he says next is real, or if my brain chose to imagine the words over the Harley’s roar. “I didn’t want to die before I made you mine for real.”
We ride off into the distance, leaving my dad’s pretty little house in a cloud of dust behind us. Though I can’t see him anymore, I know he’s watching from the window, feeling dejected for not having loved me all this time. Because, in the end, it turns out that I was worthy to be loved by someone far better than him.
***
