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She’s quiet for a long while, and I feel as if I fucked it up.
I pull into our driveway and park the car. Once the engine is turned off, I turn to face her fully. “Mila, I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes.” Her deep green pools regard me. A smile lights up her face. “I’d like to stay here, in Seattle I mean, and with you.” Her voice drops on those last two words, and I tip my head to the side.
“You do?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She turns and once again, I see the wince.
“Are you okay, Princess? You look like you’re in pain?” I question calmly, knowing exactly why. I wonder if she’ll tell me about the goddamn tattoo Grayson told me about.
“I’ll show you inside. Let’s go, I’m hungry,” Mila says quietly. Without waiting for me, she pushes her door open and leaves me in the car staring after her. Exiting the Benz, I lock it and follow my princess up to the house. When I enter, she’s in the kitchen leaning against the island drinking a glass of juice.
“So,” I prompt, stalking toward her, keeping my eyes trained on her. “Am I going to see how you mutilated your body?” Her eyes widen in shock, and her mouth drops open, and then closes again. “I’m not stupid, Mila, and I wasn’t born yesterday. Let’s see.” I gesture with my chin.
I have tattoos, and a piercing which was a drunken mistake; however, after I got it done, my girlfriend didn’t complain, so I kept it. Even Mila’s mother enjoyed the sensation.
Watching my little girl unbutton her shorts has me wondering just what the hell she did. My heart hammers against my rib cage painfully, and I have to stifle a groan when she shoves her shorts down just below her panty line. There, between her hip bones, is the word sweetheart.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“You got a fucking tattoo, Mila?” I growl. Her head snaps up so fast, and her brows furrow in confusion at my outburst. Fuck. Even I’m confused at my outburst. But I realize it’s not that she got it, it’s that she must have had to drop her pants for a stranger. I hope to god it was a woman who did the ink on her body.
“I thought you—”
“Tell me it was a woman who did it?” Scrubbing my hands over my scruffy jaw, I try to calm myself down, but the image of my daughter lying on a table while some fucker touched her drives me fucking crazy.
“God, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she suddenly bursts out. Through the haze of anger, I glance up and find her glaring at me.
“What did you just say to me?” My voice is controlled, low and gravelly, and from the expression on my face, she must know I’m livid.
“Nothing . . .,” she pouts, but this time I’m not falling for her little girl act. If she wants to be an adult, she better start acting like one. So many times over the past year, I’ve looked at her and seen not my little girl, but a woman. An adult. Someone who challenges me. When I was married to Louisa, I didn’t look at another woman, let alone entertain the thought of growing old with anyone but her. When she died, my world collapsed around me. It was Mila who dragged me from the dark to the light. Her light.
“Mila Reyes do not ignore me,” I command, and her eyes meet mine.
“I’m not. I’m just tired of you looking at me like a fucking child.” The curse word falling from her lips doesn’t anger me like a parent should. It makes me want to chuckle at how much my daughter has grown up.
“If you use that word in front of me one more time, you will get a spanking, and you’ll not be able to sit down for a week. Or did you want your Uncle Grayson to do it?” I’m almost in her face as I bite out my question, and her mouth gapes in shock. She doesn’t know that I know about her conversations and flirting with him, but when I meet her indignant stare, I know it’s obvious.
She pushes past me, but before she’s out of earshot, I hear it. “Just stay out of my life, Daddy.”
Chapter 5
Mila
“Just stay out of my life, Daddy.” My murmur must have reached him because suddenly I’m being yanked backward.
“Mila, just know if you want to cross that line with him, there is no going back,” he growls, his lips inches from my ear. I don’t respond because I don’t trust my words. Instead, I push back and run into my bedroom, ignoring the shock that slowly envelopes me.
My father knows. Was I that obvious about it? Did Grayson say anything to him? The doorbell dings through the house, and I curl around my pillow. I wish Dad didn’t invite that woman over he’s been seeing. Brigitte. I can’t stand her. She’s as fake as a damn Barbie doll, and I’m over seeing him waste his time with her.
