“I’m so glad to see you.” He held me at arm’s length, hands clasped to my upper arms. “Good work on Eastshore Island. IknewI could count on you.” He winked. “And it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I stared.
How in the hell did he expect me to answer that question? Was I supposed to agree with him? As if he hadn’tsent me off to whore for him in order to cancel one of his debts?
“That monster wouldnotshut up about me paying him back.” Dad released one of my arms and swung his attention to watch the foyer as well as me. “I knew he’d take one look at you and decide there were other things he wanted more than my money.”
I bit my tonguehardto keep from telling him his debt wasn’t absolved. Instead I stared incredulously and Dad, in true Trevor Hendricks fashion, failed to pick up on it. He always did.
He nodded amicably to someone passing by in the foyer, then surprised me by tightening his hold on my arm and yanking me closer. I teetered on my ridiculous heels and managed not to slam into his side as he hissed at me, his tone hard but his expression good-natured in case anyone was watching.
“What the fuck took you so long? We should have been rehearsing for the last week! Your ticket back was?—”
“I was busy, Dad,” I interrupted him, refusing to tell himwhatI’d been doing.
“You cut it close, but at least you’re here.” His hold tightened until he was squeezing my arm, and I winced, knowing there’d be bruises, just like the last time I saw him. “We’re using the same signals as last time,” he announced. “Left eye wink if you think I should fold, right eye for stay, both for raise.”
“Dad, I don’t want?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you want, whore,” he hissed,shaking me. “Get into that room, be charming, sit where you can see Pierre.”
I barely heard the words. I was focusing on where he was holding me, focused on trying to pull away from him. “Dad, you’re hurting me!”
“Maybe next time you won’t be late,” he spat. “This is the only way a bitch like you will listen. You’re going to help me beat the LeClair brothersandthat monster of yours?—”
“Get your hands off my Mate.”
The growl was low, but it managed to fill the entire room. I wasn’t the only one who gasped and turned when Garrak stepped inside. My father’s face actually paled, and he yanked me even closer.
“How dare you interrupt—” Dad began, but Garrak was stalking toward us.
“You have two seconds to let her go,” he rumbled, and thankGodDad released me.
When I threw myself forward into Garrak’s arms, he caught me and tucked me up to his side, still glaring at my father.
He’d called meMate.
He still wanted me.
And I was superficial enough to admit that he looked damnedfinein that specially tailored suit, enough to make me remember what was under all that black fabric.
I wrapped one arm around his waist and pressed the other palm to his chest. “I missed you, Garrak,” Iwhispered, ashamed of how watery my voice sounded. God, I was close to tears, wasn’t I?
He didn’t answer, but his hold on my shoulders tightened for just a moment, a hug that seemed out of place with the way he was glaring. “Missed you too,dkaar,” he murmured. “So much.”
My guilt was a spear in my stomach, and I pressed closer, hoping he felt my regret, my sorrow at all this. “I’m coming home soon, I swear?—”
But my father wasn’t going to allow our reunion. He’d recovered his equilibrium and now barked out a harsh howl of laughter. “You didn’t honestly think this was something special, did you? Your little fuckfest?”
Garrak growled from his chest, loosening his hold on me to step toward my father, who—still laughing mockingly—held up his palms and stepped back.
“You’ve been played, orc. That wasn’t an emotional thing, she was just fucking you because she knew I would act on my threat if she didn’t. She doesn’t havefeelingsfor you.”
How I found my voice, I don’t know. Maybe it was the fact that Garrak stood between me and my father, or maybe it was because I’d finally had enough. All I know is that I whispered—okay, yes,whispered, I’d gained some courage, but notthatmuch courage—“Shut up, Dad.”
It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to make him glance at me, one brow raised in surprise. “You’re just a whore who?—”
And then he wasn’t saying anything but a sort ofaaaagksound, because Garrak’s hand had closed around his throat.
