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“God, Sarita! I see them every night in my nightmares.”
She was only barely aware of Ethan motioning the others out of the room. Even her father’s bodyguards left silently, closing the door behind them, leaving her alone with Gio and Ethan.
“Beau was working to legitimize our holdings,” he breathed out roughly. “For him, I had agreed to turn the business over to your uncle Lucian. We were negotiating this with Lucian the night you were taken.” He shook his head wearily. “I do not excuse myself, Sarita. Not what I have done, or for what I have been. But you were always my light. My precious child. More to me even than my son. And you know this.”
She had been the spoiled princess. The baby. She had been loved by her father, by her brother. Cherished after the death of her mother.
“My name is Sarah,” she whispered.
She didn’t know what to say, how to feel. She only knew that if Ethan let go of her, she would sink to the floor in pain.
“This one, he calls you ‘Sair’?” Her pa-pa nodded to Ethan behind her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Only Ethan calls me ‘Sair.’”
“Ah. And only you call him ‘Ethan,’ when all others call him ‘Cooper.’” He nodded. “Yes. It is the way of love, eh?”
She stared back at him silently as he moved and sat down in one of the large chairs that sat close to the wall.
He leaned forward, his tall, broad body almost too large, even for Ethan’s furniture. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands were clasped between them as he regarded her.
“Sarah,” he sighed her name. “I make no excuses for what I was. And I take full blame for how Marco terrorized you.” He shook his head, and when his eyes lifted, she saw the tears in them. “For you, I would have died. Beau searched for you, and I feared he would die in the attempt to rescue you. He was enraged. So I went to the authorities. And”—he spread his hands—“I let you go. You were the only bit of innocence in my life. My sweetest daughter. And I thought I could let you fly as I knew you should, away from the ugliness of who and what I was.” His expression turned fierce. “But I cannot.” He rose to his feet, paced, and turned back to her. “You are my child. My daughter. You will give this man children. Blood of my blood.” He thumped his chest, crossed his arms over it. “Fight me all you wish. I will move to this town if I must. I will be where you are. I will tell all, you are my daughter, who I love, who I treasure. I will not let you go as you wish.” He glared at Ethan, then at her. “And my name is not Gio. My name is Ronald.” He lifted his head proudly. “For my great-grandfather. Who was pure. Who was not part of that life you so abhor. I am Ronald Caspari. An immigrant.” His voice lowered. “A father.”
She stared back at him in shock.
“And you think it’s so easy? That I can just forgive?”
He shook his head, his glance moving once again to where Ethan’s arms were wrapped around her.
“Not easy,” he said softly. “But I hope, perhaps in time, you can find it in yourself to remember the man who loved his Sarita. His precious angel.”
That first tear slipped free. Her pa-pa never cried. He was fierce, and he was strong.
“Don’t.” She shook her head, feeling her eyes well with tears as well. Because she remembered her pa-pa. She remembered, and oh God, how she had missed him.
“Ronald Caspari hasn’t committed any crimes, Sair,” Ethan whispered.
“Don’t excuse him,” she cried out.
“I’m not excusing him, baby.” He rubbed his chin against her head. “You’re allowed the choice, Sair. It’s not either-or. And hell, I’m not exactly a saint. We both know that.”
“He killed.”
“I protected what was perhaps not rightfully, but all the same, mine,” her father breathed out roughly. “But unlike Carlos and others, Sarita, I never warred on innocents. I never kidnapped a woman or a child and brought them pain. Neither did I approve such an action. Never could I have. You were my guide, child.” He shook his head. “From the day of your birth, you were my guide. Your sweetness and light ensured no child was harmed by my hand.”
“Giovanni Fredrico was known as Gio the Giant. The Gentle Giant,” Ethan reminded her.
“Why are you defending him?”
“Because a daughter’s need for her father never goes away, Sair,” he said. “You’ll never stop grieving for him. And you’ll tear yourself up inside. Better to pick your battles with him, and make sure he walks the path you choose for him from here on out. He’s less of a threat to our peace of mind that way. Besides, someone has to give you away when we get married. I don’t think Casey or Turk would look good in a tux.”
She swung around. Blinked.
“Did you think I’d let you get away from me?” His smile was pure male confidence and a hint of wickedness. After all, her father was standing there.
“You didn’t ask me to marry you,” she pouted. “Maybe I wanted all the trimmings?”
He snorted. “Naw. You didn’t. Or you wouldn’t have picked the shadiest character in town to trip with that sneaky heart of yours. I’ve fallen, Sair. Right at your feet. I’m not asking for marriage, I’m damn well demanding it.” He touched her cheek, cupped it with his palm. “And your father isn’t asking for forgiveness, just a chance.”
