After everything that had happened in the last few months, those words had my body warm and glowing. Somehow these rich, arrogant fuckers had buried themselves deep in my heart.
Beck pulled to a stop in front of the safe house. “We’re in this shit together,” he said as he turned the engine off. “I would have gone with you. Any of us would have.”
“I thought you’d stop me,” I admitted. “You can be pretty bossy when it comes to safety.”
Beck shifted around so he was facing me fully, his beautiful eyes awash in gray storm clouds. They got like that when he was pissed or upset. Right now I was pretty sure he was both.
“I’m bossy because I fucking love you, Butterfly. I’m not letting anyone take you away from me. But … if it was important to you, I wouldn’t have stood in your way. I would have just made sure that we were prepared for anything. I would have had backup.” He reached out and cupped my face, his hand rough and soft at the same time. “I won’t stand in your way, baby, but I will stand at your side, where I belong.”
Well, fuck. What did someone say to that?
“I love you, Sebastian.”
The words slipped out. I hadn’t said it back to him earlier, even though I’d felt it, but now there was no way to keep it inside.
He stilled, the storminess of his eyes fading to something almost silvery. That was how they looked when he was happy. Content.
He reached up, his other hand cupping my face, too, and in true Beck style, he slammed our mouths together. The kiss was hard and punishing at first before it gentled to loving touches of lips and tongue and hands.
A firm knock on the window beside my head was the only thing that pulled us apart, because we were not stopping on our own. Dylan stood there with an exasperated look on his face, and he jerked his head toward the door of the safe house, indicating that Richard was already there waiting for us.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from Beck, and climbed out of the car. The safe house was small, looking a lot like an old brown barn that had been sitting out here in the elements for decades. It was run down on the outside, but something told me that was part of its “blend in and not get found” camouflage.
“Stay close, Riles,” Dylan said when Beck crossed behind the car to join us.
“And don’t forget to use your gun if you need to protect yourself,” Beck murmured, his eyes hard as his gaze landed on my father.
Richard looked like shit, eyes bloodshot, wrinkled suit on. His gaze found mine, and for a moment, I struggled to breathe.
What truth was I about to find out? And would I be able to handle it?
2
“Hurry inside,” Richard said, and it astonished me again how chameleon like he was. One minute kind and caring, the next psycho and scary, and right now he almost seemed frail and afraid. Maybe he had multiple personalities.
Beck and Dylan fell in on either side of me. “Stay together,” Beck said under his breath.
Dylan nodded, the perfect lines of his face hardening, making him look older than his twenty years. I always felt safe when I was with these two. And especially when I was with all four of the heirs, but I was also determined to feel safe just with myself. Which meant I had to stay in control of this situation.
I had my gun. Maybe I’d use it.
Stepping through the front door, I let out a low gasp. Okay, I might have expected that the outside was a “front” hiding the true inside, but I had not expected this.
Inside was a fortress. The walls lined with what looked like steel: silver, shiny and thick. There were no windows, and it appeared that the front door we’d just used was the only way to get in and out.
“It’s virtually bomb and earthquake proof,” Richard said, smiling at my undoubtedly shocked expression. “Nothing can get in once it’s locked down. We’ve used it a few times over the years.”
The front door was closed by Beck, and then we followed Richard through the entrance and into a steel-lined living area I’d caught glimpses of. There were multiple couches, a thick cream rug, and three shelves teaming with books.
Richard sat in a high backed leather armchair, and the three of us ended up in a tan leather couch across from him. “Now we can talk, Riley,” Richard said.
Okay then.“Are you my father?”
First thing was first. Dylan shot me a side-eye, and I remembered that he didn’t know of Catherine and Graeme yet, but he’d catch up quickly, because I would definitely be asking more about them.
“Yes,” Richard said without preamble. “I’ve had DNA tests done and our match was conclusive. I’m your father.”
A relieved gust of air left me. That’s how fucked up my world was—I was relieved that the psycho drug-his-own-daughter was my father.
