Page 49 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

“Honey, maybe you should—”

“Shut up, Henry! You’re a coward,” she snarls.

She lashes out at me with her pointed high heel. I turn my body to shield Lola and jerk downward with all my might. Bones snap before I let go.

The woman drops to the ground in a heap of fabric, limbs, hair extensions, and surgical enhancements. Her screaming never ceases, and I wonder if anyone heard her fingers break over her racket.

I don’t care. She almost kicked Lola. She deserves worse.

Lola trembles with her face in my skirt. I rest my hand on the top of her head, wanting to comfort her but unwilling to restrict my range of motion, and shift my stance so she’s further away from the nonsense. I keep my weight on the leg she’s clinging to, allowing my nondominant foot to stay in front.

When the woman finally stops flailing around and sits up with her fingers clutched to her chest, I lift a brow and speak down my nose at her.

“You can apologize now.”

“Apologize?! You broke my fingers!”

Her sobs carry in the silence, and I realize the entire room has frozen to watch the drama. The guy beside her puffs up his chest and points at me.

“You assaulted my wife—” he shifts his aim to Lola, “for that little bi—”

My palm cracks against his face. His head whips to the side. Pain radiates up my arm.

I resolve myself to jail time.

He swivels his attention back toward me. His face turns almost purple with rage. He pulls back his fist.

As a familiar hand closes over his, I lean back and throw my leg forward, and for a split second I consider pulling back, but it’s too late. I snap my knee straight. My shin collides with the soft bits between the man’s legs.

He lifts onto his toes, his eyes bulging, then folds in half.

I drop my foot back underneath me, peel Lola off my leg, lift her to my chest and hold her tight, and take several steps away.

I meet Artur’s shocked stare. He blinks, drops the man’s fist, and stalks toward me. The man drops to the floor with a pathetic sound.

Still trapped in the throes of instinct, I turn my body to shield Lola and shuffle away from the well-dressed beast barreling toward me.

Artur stops in his tracks and says my name. Lola’s heartbeat thrums like a hummingbird’s wings against my chest. I tighten my arms around her and brace for another battle.

When the behemoth in front of me visibly relaxes his shoulders and sucks down a deep breath, I force myself to do the same and finally see him for who he is.

Artur O’Brian. Lola’s father. My boss and lover.

I swallow an inexplicable sob and step toward him.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Massive arms wrap around me, enveloping Lola in safety and encompassing me in strength.

I lose it. I just… fall apart. Tears, snot, heart-wrenching sobs—everything pours out, and once it starts there’s no stopping it. Emotions rip through me with the force of a category-five hurricane, and I’m powerless against the onslaught.

By the time the storm clears, the slate is cleared of debris and my soul feels lighter. I breathe in Artur’s masculine scent and realize I hid my face against his sternum much the same way Lola buries hers in my bosom. I tilt my head down and meet concerned little eyes.

If we could hide in Artur’s suit coat forever, we would. Even smooshed between us with all our body heat accumulating, Lola makes no move to escape.

With one hand clinging to the small of Artur’s back and the other supporting Lola, I stand in the middle of the largest conference of Artur’s field of expertise in the United States.

I embarrassed him. Immensely.