Page 81 of Daddy's Obsession


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The admission is a punch to the gut. I can’t believe I let myself say it, but there. It’s out in the wild. I care about him, and I’ve been falling so hard for him. I obviously understand his need to keep his daughter safe, but…

Gripping the steering wheel tight, I shift the car intoD. “I feel so foolish,” I mutter, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.

“You’re falling for me?”

“It was my mistake.”

“Raquel…”

“We need to go.”

“What we need to do is figure this out.”

“No.”

“No?”

I lick my lips. “Let’s find some place to lie low. Get you patched up. We need some dry clothes, too. We should put some more distance between us and the scene of the crime.”

Gabriel snorts. “It’s not like Van Straus is going to go running to the police for help.”

“Still. I’d rather not risk getting caught.”

He nods. “Alright.”

I nod, too, swallowing at the sticky lump lodged in my throat. I hit the gas and we’re on our merry way.

Worst Christmas ever.

Chapter 32

Raquel

There are tons of winter homes out here. Cabins and lodges and villas for the fancy rich elites of the world. I drive for at least two hours before we come across a cabin out in the middle of the forest. It’s quiet and secluded, surrounded on all sides by snow and mountains and evergreens. Judging by the blanket of undisturbed snow, lack of tracks, and the blacked-out windows, I assume the place is empty.

Perfect.

I kill the engine the second I pull up, peering cautiously past the windshield to look for any signs of life. There are none. This is the perfect place to rest and recuperate. And deal with… the rest later.

“The front lock looks old,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “It should be a breeze to— Gabriel?”

Beside me, Gabriel is as still as the dead. For a second, panic grips me.

He groans softly, paler than a sheet.

Phew. Not dead, just close to it.

I place my hand gingerly on his lap. His eyelids fight to open. “Hang on. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

He mumbles something that sounds like, “Okay,” but I’m not entirely sure.

I move fast despite the soreness of my muscles and the ache of my joints. My coat and pants have been drying in the backseat. I climb past the driver’s seat and over the center console, flopping into the back so I can change. I pull on my water-logged shoes and exit the vehicle, rushing up the front steps of the cabin to peer in through the window.

Not a soul in sight.

My fingers are swollen and numb from the cold, but I still crack the lock in under ten seconds. Easy peasy, but I’m not in the mood to feel smug about it.

It’s a hassle and a half trying to drag Gabriel into the building. He’s heavy and barely conscious and distressingly cold.

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