I never questioned how to be a father to Andre. I got him. He got me. We made sense as a powerful father-and-son duo and nothing was ever confusing like this.
But I had to try. I had to give it my best effort to convince Anya that I would continue to keep her safe. That she would be welcome here, somehow, despite that massive chip on her shoulder.
The men who attacked that night hadn’t given me any clues behind the incident. The men who’d come into the buildingwere all killed. One escaped, and men were searching for a trace of him. Another had been captured and chose to kill himself instead of being questioned.
I still didn’t know if it was Niko Popov who’d ordered that ambush or Roberto Giovanni. Or another enemy. All of my rivals and adversaries were getting too bold and rash in targeting and sabotaging my businesses and trying to weaken my empire.
Regardless, one fact remained crystal clear.
War was coming.
It was always lurking, a big, bald threat of reality close to the surface of any given moment.
Going into a bigger battle wouldn’t be easy with the distraction of my scared, angry daughter in the background.
“Anya, I understand you are frustrated, but I would like to ask that you give me a chance.” I measured my words carefully and delivered them coolly. I wouldn’t beg. I wouldn’t demand.
“Submit to being here and following the rules of my home,” I added, “and you will see that you are wanted here and that within reason, you do not have to be a prisoner.”
“Fuck you!” she shouted.
Turning on her heel, she stormed off to her room and then slammed the door shut.
I stood there and groaned, letting my head drop back. “For fuck’s sake.”
Instead of going after her and trying to get her to calm down some more, or to suggest she come downstairs more often andacclimate to this life, I stayed put and tried to swallow down my anger.
That little fucking brat.
I knew the Volkovs had poisoned her to hate me, but didn’t saving her life mean anything?
Shaking my head, I sighed and gave in to the awareness that someone was watching me.
I pivoted, seeking out the newcomer downstairs.
There at the foyer, standing alone with her hands clasped together at the straps of a tote bag she carried, was the woman I had yet to erase from my memories.
“Dr. Donovon.”
I said it as a greeting and as a confirmation to myself.
Blinking again, I tested whether I was imagining her standing there. In my home. Peering up at me on this open hallway of the second floor in the aftermath of a shouting match with Anya.
Her eyes were opened wide, surprise evident with that expression.
Those plump pink lips remained parted in shock as she stared up at me.
Fuck.
She had to have heard it all.
Although I only experienced several minutes in her company, it was plenty to give me the hint that she was sheltered. Prim and proper. Too good to ever belong in my gritty, dark world ofpower and violence. Too sweet and naïve to disregard the heated words she’d overheard.
Setting my hands on the railing to the hallway, I locked my gaze on her and wondered why she’d shown up now. Or at all. When I walked out of the hospital, I figured that’d be the last I’d see of this gorgeous creature, so tall and slender but curvy in just the right places.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, relishing the fresh curiosity about her that took over the irritation over my daughter.
She flinched, as if she were snapped out of staring. “Oh. I–I’ll go. I’m not… Sorry. There’s no need to interrupt you and…”
