***
We’re halfway home when she seems to snap out of her shock, and she spins toward me, full of anger.
“What the hell was that about?” she snarls at me. Her eyes are wide, glimmering, and ferocious.A black kitten.
“I thought you had a right to see for yourself.”
“No, you had some other benefit from showing me that. You got something out of it? What? To prove a point? To rub it in my face? What the hell kind of sick and twisted person getssatisfaction out of hurting other people!” Her voice is shaking with anger. Her eyes are shining with emotion.
“Athena, that wasn’t why I showed you. I felt you should know the truth.”
“Who were all those people?” she demands.
“Gangsters, bookies, gambling addicts…criminals. It doesn’t really matter. You could see for yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter. Of course itmatters. My father is hanging out with criminals?” she blurts out, horrified. “I thought that stuff only happened in movies,” she gasps.
My chest tightens. She really had no idea. Not even a glimmer. And now I am responsible for exposing her to his hidden life. Was that fair of me?Probably not. She probably would have been happier not knowing. But then her father would have continued to use her, and she would have kept helping him and helping him. Giving away her hard work, only to get no gratitude from the old guy. Entitled. That’s what he is. Entitled and selfish, and she really does have a right to be fully aware of his true nature.
I glance across the car at her, at her tension, her agitation. The distraught way she is twisting her hands and biting at her lower lip. The illusion must be breaking down. The illusion of the man she thought he was.
“I hate you for taking me there!” she blurts out as tears roll down her cheeks.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but a deep realization hits me.
It’s not me she hates.
It’s not even me she’s angry with.
The truth is hurting her.
The truth of who her father really is has shocked and hurt her.
She has to lash out at someone, and there is no one else here but me.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to pull her onto my lap and hold her against me until we get home. The urge to protect her from everything is much stronger than it was before. To protect her from the type of man her father is. The type of man who would choose gambling over his own daughter. Who would take from his daughter and use her just so he can keep playing his games and chasing that lifestyle?
I want to tell her I’m sorry, but right now it won’t do any good.
“Athena,” I say gently, reaching across the car and placing my hand on her leg.
She brushes it away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“I wish there had been another way to show you the truth about your father. But you wouldn’t have believed anything I said. You had to see it for yourself.”
She shakes her head, turning her beautiful face away from me before she falls silent again. I can hear the deep breathes now and then as a heavy sob tugs at her and shakes her shoulders.
We arrive home, and I want to climb out of the car and hold her, just for a moment, to let her know that I would never treat her as her father has treated her. She needs reassurance that, despite what he is doing, she is safe now. She has been taken away from his bad choices. I will never let his shit affect her ever again.
But she’s out of the car and hurrying toward the front door before I’m even out. Walking briskly, I catch up with her where she’s waiting on the top step to be let into the mansion.
I open the door for her, taking note of her body language. Her closed-off demeanor.
She wants nothing to do with me right now.
Athena goes straight up to her room without saying a word to me. I hear the bedroom door closing and let out a long sigh of frustration. I thought the truth would help her.
I had no intention of hurting her.
