A message Braden clearly received. He hadn’t built the businesses he had, accumulated the wealth he had, without being able to read a room. Tilting his chin ever so slightly, he met his daughter’s gaze. “I owe you both an apology.”
It took considerable effort to conceal his surprise. Even with the conversation they’d just had, those were the last words he’d expected from Braden Elliott’s mouth.
“You do,” Aria replied, as calm and cool as if she’d been born for this role.
And perhaps she had.
“I treated you both horribly. You, most of all, Killian. My only excuse is that I was scared. No.” He shook his head. “I am scared. Terrified. This isn’t the life I would have chosen for my daughter, and I can’t imagine there are many men in this world who would.”
You’d be surprised. The number of men who would gleefully choose a life of violence and terror for their daughters for even a taste of the kind of power Killian wielded was, quite frankly, sickening. Richard Williams was, unfortunately, not a singular case.
“But that doesn’t excuse my actions,” Braden continued. “Instead of supporting you, Aria, I tried to force you to bend to my will.” His lips twitched, ever so slightly. “You would think I would have learned by now that never works.”
When Aria spoke, her words were tinged with the same amusement playing out on her father’s face. “You would.”
“Yes. Well. As I said—I’m terrified for you. But I realize now that if I want you to be safe, to be happy, the best thing I can do for you is lend you and your… husband my full and unwavering support. If you’ll have me, of course.”
“And you’ll stop being an asshole to Killian?”
“Yes. Unless he’s an asshole first.”
A glance up at his wife revealed a smug, satisfied smile. “I suppose that’s fair since he tends to be an asshole pretty often.”
“Careful,” Killian murmured, reaching down to deliver a sharp pinch to her thigh.
The move didn’t go entirely unnoticed by her father, who looked pained for a moment before carefully clearing his expression. Aria, for her part, simply looked down at him with that damn haughty brow raised.
“Can you really look me in the eye and say you aren’t an asshole?”
God, was it any wonder he was head over heels in love with her? “I certainly cannot. But that’s a discussion for after your father leaves.”
“Jesus Christ, this is going to take some getting used to,” Braden muttered. “Can we move on, please?”
Because Braden had proven himself to be the man Killian had always believed him to be, he took pity on his friend. “Yes. I believe this is the part where you hug and make up.”
Braden shifted his gaze to his daughter, the question clear in his eyes. And an instant later she was in his arms, her body trembling with the emotion she’d been holding back during their conversation.
Since he trusted Braden not to abscond with his wife, Killian slipped from the room to give them some privacy. Reagan was in the kitchen, pouring herself what was likely her third cup of coffee of the morning, seeing as how she didn’t really sleep these days.
Leaning against the counter, she watched him cross the room to pour his own cup, the companionable silence stretching between them.
“I heard we had company.”
“We do. He came to offer a truce, I suppose you could call it.”
“And you trust him.”
“Yes. Not everyone is out to get us, Reagan.”
“Mmhmm. So you’ve been telling me for the last ten years.”
Bitterness coated her voice. Needing to comfort as much as he needed the comfort himself, he ran a hand over her dark hair. “I’m going to fix it, Rae. I promise.”
“I believe you.”
Silence fell again, more strained this time, and for once he felt compelled to break it. “We’re going to have a wedding.”
It did the trick, distracting her from her brooding thoughts as she grinned up at him. “Another one?”
