My father does not like to be dirty. In negotiations and war, sure. On his skin and clothing, no.
“Daria.” He nods as though we are acquaintances passing one another on the street, not father and daughter sitting within two feet of one another in one’s living room.
Mack comes back into the room and notices the look on my face, his own immediately turning to a scowl as he crosses his arms across his massive chest and gives my father a once over. Father’s two guards step forward, but the mere palm of Viktor Limonov stops them in their tracks. Knowing my father, he loves wielding that sort of control over grown men twice his physical size.
My father barely glances at Mack before turning back to me. I shoot an apologetic glance to Mack before returning my attention to my father.
“You are hurt because of Ronan’s men,” he says it as a statement, but he means it as a question.
I nod an affirmation.
“Even after I told you I was handling it.” His tone is the same as before, so I nod once again. “You inserted yourself into a place where you do not belong.”
If my father were any other man speaking to me in this way, I would probably punch him square in the jaw. But because it’s my father, and they raised me to respect him above all else, I remain silent. Agreeing when I’m supposed to and refraining from interrupting every time I want to.
“I do not see how I can feel for you in such a situation, no? Such insolence you have, especially for a girl.”
I shake my head. He’s not saying anything I don’t already know. I put myself in a stupid position and am suffering the consequences. Mack stiffens at my father’s words. I can feel the fury rolling off him in waves from here. I want to reach for him, but he’s on my right side, the arm that’s all busted up. I settle for a glance in his direction, hoping he understands what my look means.
“You look to the boy for guidance?” My father’s voice rises with each word. “The American? And not your own father?” He makes a noise of disgust and waves a hand in my direction, turning his head away from me. “I cannot look at you now.”
“He’s not a boy,” I say, needing to make a point in Mack’s favor. My father can say whatever he wants to me, but he does not get to come in my home and disrespect my man, who before today, he’s never even met. “He’s a man. All man. My man. And you will respect him in my home.”
My father scoffs. “The man who cannot speak for himself?”
“Oh, I can speak for myself.” Mack’s deep voice resonates through the room. “But your daughter, who I love and respect more than anything in this world, asked me to stand back and allow her this opportunity to speak with you.”
My father’s face reddens as he stands to face Mack, who unfortunately continues talking. “You say one more negative word against her, father or not, I will take you down a notch or twelve myself. Got it, old man?”
Aw, fuck.
My father gets in Mack’s face, at the same time holding his hand up once again so his thugs stand back. Almost making me laugh. My father is a formidable man, no doubt. But in a physical altercation with Mack, he would never come out the victor. Not without weapons. I scan my father’s body to see if I can spot a hidden gun. The last thing I need is him shooting Mack out of anger.
The two men puff out their chests, literally and metaphorically. If this comes to blows, who do I want to win? Mack is the man I love, but my father is my father.
“Hey,” I interject, trying to stand. “Can we just take a breath here?”
“Babe.” Mack turns to me and settles me back against the cushions, my father forgotten. “Don’t you move. I’m sorry. I’ll back down.” He holds his palms up to my father in a surrender pose. My father smirks in return before taking a step back in retreat. He really can be an asshole at times.
Maybe most times.
I turn to the asshole. “Yes, I went against your wishes and surveilled Andrei’s place. Because I’m pretty sure he’s holding my friend Quinn hostage there.” I don’t tell my father I know it’s really Ronan. Or what I’m planning to do for him to get her back. My father need not know that. Not now, not ever.
Mack follows my lead and remains silent.
My father considers what I’ve told him. It won’t be enough for him to back out of anything he’s said or accused me of until now, but it may be enough for him to lay off from here on out. He stands and heads for my front door, turning only once he’s pulled it open, to say, “It would be best you figure it out soon, Daria. I plan to take his entire compound out.”
“When?” I ask.
“Soon,” he says as he disappears through the doorway.
Fuck.
21
Mack
I should get a fucking medal for how well I handled myself with Daria’s father. The man is a self-righteous, sexist, narcissistic prick. The next time anyone puts that look on my girl’s face, no matter who it is, I’ll take them down. No one makes her doubt herself like that. If they can’t help build her up, they don’t belong in our lives. Plain and simple.
