He laughed outright. “Yes. They are. But they’re also a necessary evil.”
I went silent. He was showing his age again. He knew things that I didn’t, and was talking about things I didn’t understand. To me, my parents needed to butt the fuck out. I had no clue why it was a necessary evil. I didn’t like not understanding things like reasoning. It made me feel stupid.
A few moments later, I felt him still before he slowly took his chin off the top of my head and whispered in my ear, “You’ll understand in time. It’s not something I can explain. You have to experience and feel it to fully comprehend what I mean.” He kissed my neck and then sighed. “This is difficult. Even for me. Don’t think it’s not.” He kissed my neck again. “But I believe it’s worth it.” He bit down gently on my neck, making me sink back against him, completely relaxing.
Yeah. We may have an age-language issue, but it was definitely worth it.
The tour had been dreadful. Not because of the location—that was amazing since Hemingway was one of my all-time favorite authors—but because my family had actually beaten us there. They had been waiting, my mom and dad watching from the parking lot. It was only luck that I had noticed them, and I had quickly exited my seat and shot forward down the aisle, being one of the first to exit the bus. And Lion Security’s group found it pretty damn amusing that my family had tagged behind, silently taking the tour with us.
They weren’t finding it as amusing now, where we sat in a restaurant that overlooked the ocean—with my family coming right for us after my dad somehow managed to coax an invite out of Anna before we loaded back onto the bus. Lion Security’s group was glaring at her, and her cheeks were pink while Carl kept an arm around her protectively, scowling at the group. She hadn’t meant to. I knew that. Ireallyknew that. Dad just had a way of getting what he wanted. No one was safe when he was on a mission.
And, like clockwork, as soon as Dad stepped up to the table, everyone seated at our table sat up straight, as if a drill sergeant had just bellowed, even though Dad hadn’t even spoken and was only perusing everyone. Daniil sat across from me, fully knowing my dad was showing up. I wasn’t sure what that was about, but I kept my gaze firmly off him.
My cousin Katie, who looked a lot like me but with blonde inhuman hair, sat on my left and my aunt Susan, who looked like an older version of her daughter, also with inhuman blonde hair, quickly sat on my right. My mom, who appeared like an older version of me with the same crazy hair—but with white streaks in her strawberry blonde curls—sat next to my aunt while my dad instantly went to the far end of the table. Away from me. He sat between Roman and Torrez.
I blinked at him.
Then at the empty chair next to Katie.
Back to him.
Now the empty chair.
What the hell was he doing?
Picking up my water glass, I whispered to Susan, “What’s Dad doing?” She was my cool aunt. My mom’s sister. They couldn’t be any more different in personalities.
She didn’t even glance at my dad. “He’s trying to figure out who you’ve been having sex with, dear.”
Water spewed from my mouth.Like a broken fire hydrant.It landed all over my plate. The flower arrangement in the middle of the table. Daniil’s plate. And on his black shirt.
The table fell silent. Staring.
Daniil’s lips had twitched for a second at my aunt’s quiet pronouncement, but he had quickly pinched them, so it looked perfect for my undignified blunder. He gradually picked up his napkin and started drying off his shirt, his gaze down on his task.
“Elizabeth, what in the world?” my mother sputtered, her attention turning to Daniil, and although she was shocked, she watched him warily. She glanced at me quickly. “Apologize. Now.” My mom was actually fearful of Daniil.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured quietly, wiping my mouth.
Zane and Stash start speaking to Dad, distracting him.
The conversation around the table slowly picked up.
But they were all multitasking, listening in.
Daniil’s hair hung down around his face as he soaked the water from his shirt into his napkin, saying quietly and evenly, “That’s all right, Beth. I’m sure it was an accident.”
I froze.
So did my mom, aunt, and cousin.
Mom got over her fright in a hurry because, from her frozen state, she asked—this wasn’t a good thing—delicately, “What did you call her?”
Just barely, Daniil’s head tilted up, his eyes lifting as he held the napkin to his shirt. His dark gaze darted to each of us under hooded lids. I should have warned him earlier. But I hadn’t even thought about it. It hadn’t even entered my damn mind. And now I was going to faint because I had forgotten one very simple detail.
Daniil’s eyes landed on my mom, and he finished lifting his head. He casually placed his napkin on the table, his accentheavy, answering in a bored quiet tone, “Her name. Why do you ask?” He relaxed back in his chair, his arms comfortably in his lap, his expression serene.
“No, you didn’t. Her name’s Elizabeth, so why did you call her Beth?” My mom kept her voice very soft as she zeroed in on him.
