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I know I should scream, that I should be terrified, but the way he’s watching me, the way he’s looking at me, I’m not. I’m oddly comfortable.
“You have no fucking idea who I am, do you?” he asks.
Turning my body completely, I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side. I take him in, my gaze searching his for a long moment. I recognize his eyes, but I have no idea where from.
That’s all I have.
His eyes.
“I don’t,” I confess.
He chuckles, but it sounds odd. Like it’s not something he does very often—laugh. He stays seated, his gaze still very much focused on me as I wait for him to say whatever the hell he’s here to say so he can leave.
“Doesn’t surprise me the bitch never told you about me.”
Leaning forward a little more, I narrow my eyes and picture him with darker hair and a shorter dark beard. He looks exactly like my brother, except a couple of decades older. My breath hitches, and I stumble backward a few steps.
“Figure it out?” he asks.
“Are you my father?”
His lips twitch. “At least you ain’t stupid like that bitch that shot you out from her snatch.”
I wrinkle my nose at the description of my birth because that’s just gross. “Why did you break into my apartment?” I demand. “And what do you want?”
He places his palms on the arms of my chair and pushes up to stand. I stay where I am, my feet planted as he moves toward me. He stops a few feet away from me, tipping his chin down as he looks into my eyes.
“I’m here because you fucked up, baby girl, and I’m not about to watch you ruin your whole goddamn life.”
“What are you even talking about?” I ask.
“That guy, King? Stay the fuck away.”
My head jerks back slightly. I can’t believe he even knows I’m seeing Elvis, let alone is here warning me away from him. Then, as the seconds tick by, I decide that I’m pissed off about his being here. Not just being here, but his presence in general.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I hiss. He jerks back slightly, his eyes widening as he stares at me. “I don’t see you for at least twenty years. You break into my place. You scare me. And then you warn me off the man I’m seeing? Why?”
There is a moment of silence as he continues to watch me, though he doesn’t look the least bit surprised by my outburst. In fact, he still kind of appears to find me or maybe the situation comical.
I want to slap the smile off his face.
“Yeah, because he’s the enemy, Shawn. And you are a goddamn princess.”
I don’t think. I react. And my reaction is to burst out laughing. It takes me a moment to catch my breath, but when I do, I have to wipe the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard. “A princess?” I ask.
“A princess,” he confirms with a nod of his chin.
“Listen,” I say.
I pause for a moment when I realize that I don’t even know his name. In fact, I almost laugh because I know more about Elvis than I do this man standing in front of me. I could tell you the exact shade of Elvis’s blue eyes without even looking into them. My own father, I couldn’t even tell you what color his eyes are, let alone the shade.
“The only thing I’m the princess of is maybe trash. That’s about it.”
He shakes his head slowly. “You’re the princess of the Nomad Kings MC because I’m the fucking king.”
Leaning forward slightly, I narrow my eyes. “I don’t even know what the hell any of that means. I’m not a princess. I’m not shit. I don’t even know you. But what I do know is that I am Elvis’s woman.”
“You are the princess. I’m the president of the club, and you’re my daughter. That’s the way it fuckin’ works.”
