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“And you think that’ll work?”
His eyes met mine in the mirror before he continued to shave his jawline.
Guess so.“You never told me why you’re in the city.”
He continued to shave, ignoring what I’d said.
I stared at his reflection in the mirror, pressing him to give me an answer.
He seemed to feel my gaze because he said, “Business.”
“I thought France was your territory.” He was the biggest distributor in France, and I knew who the biggest distributor was in Italy. My father had been the Skull King since I could remember. Being his daughter exposed me to things I shouldn’t have seen. Exposed me to information I shouldn’t have had—especially when I was only eleven years old.
He washed his face, applied his aftershave, and then patted his skin dry with a towel. Now his chiseled jawline was on full display, the hard bones in his face distinguished through the tight skin. The cords in his neck were more pronounced too. He tossed the towel on the counter then turned to face me so our eyes could meet.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
He walked past me out of the bathroom, dropping his towel along the way. “No.”
* * *
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelled at my father in his own home, screaming in the drawing room. “He broke Catherine’s arm. He beat her face until it turned black and blue. And yet, you continue to employ this asshole? Why isn’t he buried six feet under? As a girl dad, aren’t you supposed to be overprotective and all those other clichés?”
He had a bored look on his face, like he hadn’t listened to a word I said. “It’s not important right now.”
“Not important…?” I couldn’t believe the words out of his mouth. “He couldkillher.”
He turned to face me, his face subtly enraged. “I don’t have time for this conversation, but I made time—out of respect for you.”
“Oh wow… I feel so loved.”
“This nonsense with Lucas and Catherine can wait until another time—”
“Nonsense? It’s domestic abuse. I gotta ask, did you hit Mom? Because you seem real chill about the whole thing.”
My father blinked. That was it. Nothing else.
“Oh my god…you did.”
“No, Laura.” He lost his temper. “I refuse to even respond to an accusation so ridiculous—”
“Protect your daughter. Be a man, goddammit.”
He rushed me, like he was going to bloody me the way Lucas did to his other daughter. But he stopped. Went still. The fight ensued beneath his features.
I stood my ground and dared him to fuck with me. “Do it. See what happens.” Bartholomew would walk right into this house and carve every feature off his face if he laid a hand on me.
His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “Don’t insult me like that again.”
“You want my respect? Then earn it.”
His face scrunched together in rage, like there was too much to contain, too much to express. “I’ve lost my relationship with my production partners because some asshole has undermined me. No one will do business with me, not the US, not even Russia. I have no product to put on the streets, so the livelihood of everyone who works for me is in jeopardy. My own livelihood is in jeopardy. No cash is coming in, but cash is pouring out, funding this very expensive enterprise. If I don’t find a solution soon, I’ll have to start selling my homes one by one, because if I lose my men and my protection, I’ll be dead. So, I don’t give a fuck about your sister right now. If she doesn’t like the way Lucas treats her, she can leave. Simple as that.”
I breathed as I processed all of that, realizing it was a real situation, nothing like the ones I remembered from my childhood. I didn’t know what to say—because something about it didn’t sit right with me.
A hand grabbed me by the arm. “Let’s go, Laura.”
I let Victor pull me, my mind still in a haze.
