For a moment, I see concern on his face as he looks at his daughter.
Then his eyes find me.
The concern turns to fury.
“What the hell are you doing here with my daughter, you Russian scum?” he snarls.
I don’t answer, because I won’t waste words on him. He is her father, and she loves him despite everything, which is the only reason he is still breathing, since hurting him would only hurt her.
Accidents happen, though, and he is testing how far that mercy extends.
He snaps again, “Answer me.”
That is when I finally look at him. “Lower your fucking voice,” I grit out.
I know for a fact that Octavia never told him about the attacks, so I keep my mouth shut. If she didn’t want him to know, then he will not hear it from me.
I look him over slowly, then lift my gaze to his face.
“I’m here,” I say calmly. “Where else would I be if not beside my woman?”
“Your woman?” he nearly shouts. “Who the fuck do you think you are—”
“Lower your voice,” I grit again. “You will let her rest. She needs it.”
That stops him.
His jaw tightens, fury flashes through his eyes. “I want you out of here. If I see you again anywhere near my daughter—”
I release Octavia’s hand and stand, closing the distance in two strides. Every second away from her makes my temper burn hotter.
“I am her boyfriend,” I say flatly. “I am her future husband. I am her family. I am all she needs. You will not keep me from her, and you will not interfere in our lives if you want to continue breathing, because the moment you step between us and create problems, you are dead.”
He opens his mouth. “Are you threatening—”
“Yes,” I interject.
“She was hit by a car.” I clench my jaw as the words leave me. “An accident. Broken ribs, a fractured wrist, a concussion.” I don’t tell him about the swelling, he doesn’t deserve anything more. “She is resting. She will wake up, and when she is ready, if she wants to speak to you, she will call you.”
“Do you think I’ll leave my daughter—”
“Yes,” I interrupt once more. “You will.” I add, “She doesn’t need you here, and she doesn’t want you here.”
Something like pain crosses his face.
“How the hell would you know?” he snaps.
“You weren’t there for your other daughter, were you, when she was lying in a hospital bed after a car accident?” I ask.
His expression changes.
“Where were you when Ophelia was hurt? Why did it take you hours or was it days to show up? Because you didn’t care. But this one, this daughter, you care about. And how do you think she would feel knowing you couldn’t be bothered when her sister was fighting for her life,but now here you are?”
He clenches his hands but stays quiet.
“She will be fine,” I continue. “She will recover, and she will decide who she wants around her. After the way you handled things last time, I know she doesn’t want to see you.”
“You think I’ll listen to you?” he snaps weakly. “If anything, you should be the one who leaves. I am her family.”
