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It’s her fault. She shouldn’t have brought up my parents. It’d provoked a physical reaction in my body that had me almost blacking out. Phoenix physically dragging my ass out the door was the best move he could have made at that moment. We’d sat at a bar, silently drinking until it closed and I calmed down.
I’d headed to my bedroom when I got home, fully intending to sleep in there alone. But I’d thought about her asleep in the next room, hopefully not in a onesie, and I hadn’t been able to resist. The makeshift pillow barrier gave me a good chuckle.
As if anything, let alone something as flimsy as a pillow, could keep me from what I wanted.
???
I amble into the kitchen.
“Where’s your girl?” Phoenix asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“I’m not her keeper. And she’s not my girl.”
"Does that mean you're done andshe’s fair game now?” This time the question comes from Rhys and I remember the way he’d touched her yesterday. Touched the mark I’d left on her like he had any right to put his hands on her.
“You must have a death wish.”
He laughs at that, but wisely chooses to stay quiet.
“What did she tell you about last night?” I ask him.
“Nothing, she wouldn’t tell me.” He gives me a contemplative look. “She seems protective over you. I’m not sure why after the way you treated her.”
“She's fine.”
“You need to learn to control your anger. You can’t let it get out of hand like that.” He gives me a cautious look and I hear the unsaid subtext.
You can’t let it turn you into your father.
I give an almost imperceptible nod as acknowledgement that I heard him and he visibly relaxes as tension leaves his body.
My phone dings and I see it’s a text from Müller.
Müller:Can I drop by? I need to get something from you.
Me:Be here in 30.
Twenty minutes later, our housekeeper, Claire, lets him in and he walks into the kitchen.
“What do you have for me?” I ask him before he can speak and waste my time with pleasantries. I want to hear any updates he has but I also need to find Bellamy.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a clear plastic bag and cotton swab.
“I need to collect your DNA.”
My back stiffens and I stand up from where I was leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Why?”
“Just routine.” He says, noncommittally. “When I find her, I want to be able to confirm it’s her if she’s refusing to admit her true identity.”
“You think she wouldn’t admit I’m her son?” I ask, my tone low and threatening. Anger makes my muscles shake at the thought that even once found, she’d have to be dragged kicking and screaming back here. Was I such a terrible son that she’d have to be forced to Aubonne just to acknowledge me?
He shrugs. “I just want to be prepared.”
Ripping the swab out of his extended hand, I put it in my mouth and scrape both inside cheeks before handing it back to him.
“So you have no updates for me?”
