Page 7 of Daddy's Obsession


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I stare at him. His intentions… seem to be honorable? I remember there being a lot of blood. Not mine, I don’t think, but that’s hardly a reassuring thought. Maybe he’s telling the truth about not wanting to ruin the sheets. It feels like Egyptian cotton. It’d be a shame to destroy them. Still, I’m not naive enough to take him totally at his word. He might not give off creeper vibes, but neither did Ted Bundy.

My hand flies to my neck. My necklace is gone. “Where—”

“Bedside table,” Gabriel informs me.

I sigh with relief. That necklace is all I have to remember my mother by. I’d be beside myself if I ever lost it. “Why did my father send me to you?” I ask him. “Who are you? What is this place? Why has he never mentioned you to me before?”

Gabriel clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to answer your questions until you answer a few of mine.”

I bristle at his response. As a thief, I’m not in the habit of giving out answers willy-nilly.

“Where is Chet?” he asks me. “How did you sustain your injuries? Why have you come here?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, debating how much information I should and shouldn’t give. “I don’t know where Dad is,” I admit. “There was an explosion, and I was caught up in the aftermath. I came here because Dad said you’d keep me safe.”

Gabriel frowns steeply, his brows knitting together. “An explosion?”

I don’t know a thing about Gabriel, but if Dad trusts him enough to send me to him, then I should trust him, too… right?

“We were in the middle of a heist,” I say slowly, carefully. I watch his face for any sort of reaction. He gives none. He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed, which tells me two things: he’s familiar with the fact that Dad is a thief and he’s comfortable associating with criminals.

The only questions now arehowandwhy?

“Chet’s still into that stupid modern-day Robin Hood schtick, huh?”

Something defensive sparks in my chest. “It’s not stupid,” I retort hotly. “It’s honorable. We only steal from—”

“Other criminals,” he finishes for me, waving one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Who was the target this time?”

“Ronaldo Bianchi. He has a stolen Picasso in his private collection back in Paris.”

Gabriel whistles, a flicker of recognition behind his dark green eyes. “Bianchi? I didn’t know that the bastard made it out of Sicily after the whole Altegro fiasco…”

My mind reels. He really knows his stuff. Who the hell is this guy? At first, I think he has to be some sort of cop. Ronaldo Bianchi is the type of big bad whose name only circulates in the most secure of circles —those of his own people and those trying to catch him. But then I think better of it. Dad would never send me willingly to the home of a law enforcement officer.

Maybe he’s a fellow thief, then? Dad has no shortage of ‘business’ contacts, after all.

The more I think about it, the less that makes sense. He’s too… put together. Toonormal, what with his big house and fancy suit and the general lack of any chaotic air about him. Most thieves I’ve met are all skittish creatures —myself included— eyes always darting around to locate the nearest exit while keeping running totals of all the luxury goods within arm’s reach. Our jittery quality may not manifest in overt physical movements, but our eyes are usually our biggest tell.

Alert, scheming.Surviving.

This guy? He’s staring right at me like I’m the only object in the room, unwavering.

“I answered your questions,” I state firmly. “Now answer mine.”

He cocks his head to the side, his gaze drifting over me steadily. “All you need to know is that this is a secure location,” he says, deep voice like distant thunder. “Chet’s called in a favor, and I think it’s to keep you safe until he can make contact.”

“But why? Who are you to him?”

Gabriel stands from his seat, his eyes still lingering on me. There’s something almost… hungryabout the way he looks at me. It’s a blink and you miss it sort of thing, though, because the next moment he’s turning away to leave.

“Nobody important,” he answers.

I huff. “You do realize that only makes me more curious, right?”

“There are a few rules you need to follow while you’re here.”

Is he ignoring me?

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