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His gaze narrows, his grip on my flesh tightening. “What has he done to you?”
“It doesn’t matter, Elia. I’m not there anymore, right?”
“Itdoesmatter, and I want to know.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you. Maybe you should’ve dug deeper before you married me.”
“Caroline, I—”
But he doesn’t get to finish, because the front door flies open, banging into the wall with such force, my teeth almost rattle. Although, it could be less because of the force and more because of the figure standing there, meeting my gaze over the countertop. I’m still sitting atop Elia, partially naked, his half-mast erection plastered against my thigh. My father’s eyes darken, a sinister smile stretching across his face.
Speak of the fucking devil.
Elia
“Christ, who the hell is that?” I snap, twisting around to get a look across the kitchen, but Caroline’s thin arms wrap around my neck, pulling my face into her chest. Though she still has her tank top on, I can’t deny that I could get used to this position.
“It’s my father,” she hisses in a low voice. I can tell by the strain in it that she’s clenching her teeth. Her spine tenses, and I raise one hand to smooth along the ridges, trying to calm her.
“What the fuck is he doing in my house?”
She shakes her head, but nothing comes out. As she shivers in my arms, I glance around for the suit jacket I discarded earlier. It’s a few feet away, tossed haphazardly on the floor, and I use my leg to drag it closer, draping it around her shoulders.
“Is that any way to greet your father-in-law?” The bastard’s voice is close, far too close for my liking. When I manage to wrangle my head free of Caroline’s breasts, I glance up and see him standing above us, a perverted grin plastered on his rotund face.
“It is when he shows up unannounced and then lets himself in.”
“I didn’t let myself in. Your guard finally put me through after I spent nearly fifteen minutes convincing him that I am,in fact, Dominic Harrison.” He stuffs his hands in his khaki pants, pressing them in a way that showcases his semi-hard dick straining against his zipper.
What the ever-loving fuck?
Stroking my hands over Caroline’s body to ensure no part of her shows under my jacket, I tuck my chin over her shoulder and glare up at him. “I prefer people don’t make house calls. Especially those who owe me and the rest of the state of Maine money.”
He scoffs, pulling out a hand to run it over his hair, greased back with so much product he looks like he just climbed out of my pool. “I just came to see my daughter.”
“You came to see mywife, who lives in my home, for whichyouneed an appointment.” I push Caroline gently from my lap, keeping her turned away from this man, and tuck my dick back in my pants, getting to my feet. If the gesture embarrasses him at all, he doesn’t show it.
In fact, he simply keeps his gaze trained on his daughter, waiting for her to acknowledge him.
And for some reason, one I don’t have proof for, I don’t fucking want her to.
I step in front of him as I zip up my slacks, shielding her from his gaze. It surprises me that she seems to cower in his presence, at odds with the spitfire nature I’ve become accustomed to in our short time together, but maybe it has more to do with the fact that she’s naked than anything else.
“What can I do for you, Harrison? Need another bailout? A soul? I hate to break it to you, but I damaged mine a long fucking time ago.”
Shaking his head, he finally peels his eyes from where they landed on my thighs, his face pinching like he’s just sucked on a lemon. “I suppose I should ask about my nephew’s body in the corner, but I’m sure it has something to do with my whore daughter. She never was very good at keeping those legs of hers closed; I can’t say I’m surprised marriage hasn’t changed her.”
A dam breaks inside my chest, setting free the vilest, cruelest parts of me. I clench my fists by my sides, resisting the urge to land one in his cheek, to sucker punch his round gut. He wants a reaction from me, to test the waters and see how much I care for the damsel I bought.
If I take the bait, he’ll use it against me, use her against me.
But I’m no fool. Instead of rushing to her defense, like my heart demands, I stay silent. Watching him. Fuming.
“In any case,” he says, studying me with black eyes, “I came to formally congratulate you two on the wedding. Not exactly who I saw my princess auctioned off to, but I suppose it worked out for the best, regardless.”
He throws me a wink, and I suppress the violence clawing its way through my veins. The way he calls herprincess, in such quick succession after calling her a whore, laces my stomach with hot nausea. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t fucking like it.
It’d be so easy to wrestle his disgusting body to the floor and pin him there until his face pinkened, eyes went bloodshot, and the last measly breath escaped his lungs.
