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I watched him go, wondering where he wanted to take me. I followed a second later, trailing behind him across the dirt to the first building that housed the restaurant and entryway. Once we turned down the hallway, I realized we were going to his office.
Which meant he wanted to talk.
Shit.
This could be it.
The moment he took away the greatest thing that had ever happened to me.
We stepped inside his office and shut the door, and Crow sat on one of the couches in front of his desk. He had a bottle of scotch on the coffee table along with two glasses. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the spot where he wanted me to sit.
I lowered myself across from him, my hands coming together. It was the first time I’d ever been nervous around him. Any other time, I was fearless, refusing to let any man intimidate me. But now, I was scared. Scared that this man had so much power over me. I told him I would leave his daughter if he asked—and I had to keep my word.
I just hoped he didn’t ask me to do it.
How could I wake up every morning without her beside me? How could I find another woman to please me and not think about Vanessa? How could I live a life without her light, her love? I’d never been dependent on anyone for anything, but now I’d become dependent on Vanessa for my happiness.
She was my whole fucking world.
I helped myself to the bottle and poured two glasses.
Crow didn’t take his. He kept staring at me, looking at me like he wasn’t sure what to say again.
Since this silence could go on forever, I started talking. “Don’t take her away from me. I’m not the kind of man who begs, not even for his life. But I’ll beg for her. I wasn’t a good man before we met, but she’s made me into one. She’s my world. I’m not ashamed to say it. I’m not ashamed to admit that I need her.”
Her father was just as stoic as before, looking at me like I hadn’t said anything at all.
I preferred his insults to this silence. I couldn’t read him—at all.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands for a moment. “I don’t like you. I’ll never like you. I don’t trust you, especially around my family. But…I’m going to try to accept you. I think you really love my daughter, and I know she loves you. So…let’s have a drink.”
I repeated every single word inside my head, treasuring those words like they were gold. He insulted me at first, but then he said what I wanted to hear. He gave me the chance I’d been working for. He gave me the opportunity to keep Vanessa. I knew that was hard for him to do, that his paranoia was warning him this was a terrible idea, but he was putting himself at risk—for this daughter.
“I’ve never really tried with you. I’ve been too busy insulting you. My brother punched you. The list goes on. So…tell me something about yourself. Something that won’t make me want to kill you.” He grabbed his glass and brought it to his lips for a drink.
I didn’t know what changed his mind—and so abruptly. Vanessa and I hadn’t done anything differently. I’d kept my head down and tried to be as nonthreatening as possible, and Vanessa was still fighting for me. Nothing seemed to have changed. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I said I’m trying to accept you,” he said coldly. “Never said I already had.” He drank from his glass again. “So, tell me something about yourself.”
There weren’t many topics we could touch. My childhood was off-limits, and my adult life was even worse. “I’m not that interesting. My life only became worth discussing when I met Vanessa.”
“Then tell me something about her.”
I grabbed the glass and held it between my fingertips, thinking about all the things I couldn’t say. Like the way her mouth parted when she came, the way her voice deepened to such a powerful tone when she exploded around my dick, and the way she whispered her love when I was buried deep inside her. “When she paints…she has this cute look on her face. Like, she’s doubting herself through every step of the process. She stops and thinks about the next place she’s gonna place her brush a long time before she finally commits, because she knows every move she makes is permanent. She’s not just artistic, but pragmatic.”
“She was always secretive about her artwork. She never allowed us to watch her process. I’m surprised she allows you to do it.” It was the first time Crow had said something back to me, a reply that wasn’t hostile. It was just a rebuttal, the second part of the dialogue.
