Page 4 of Her Father's Enemy
Chapter 3
Flint
I take a large slug of beer and rub my temple. I can feel a headache building. Fuck. Remembering the fear on her face earlier kills me. I would never hurt her, ever. But I get why she doesn’t believe me.
“So, how’s she doing?” Damon asks, his expression serious as always.
I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. “Could be worse.”
“Have you explained everything?”
I give a curt shake of the head. “Not everything.”
Damon’s dark brown eyebrows rise. He glances at Jacob, watching us from the other side of the table, who simply shrugs as if to say, you know what he’s like.
Damon clears his throat. “Don’t you think it would help if she knew—”
“If I thought it would help, Damon, I would’ve fucking told her. She’s confused. Scared. I want to give her a bit of time to get used to everything. Plus, I made a promise to Sarah.”
Damon’s expression is carefully neutral as he inclines his head slightly.
Jacob, unperturbed by the tension in the air, stretches his brawny arms over his head, grinning. “She’s a sexy little thing, though. Not really surprising, considering—”
I slam my fist onto the table and Jacob flinches. “She belongs to me,” I growl, staring him down. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
He blinks, surprised. “Since when are you so possessive?”
I grit my teeth. “None of your business.”
He opens his mouth to respond, and I push back my chair so violently it falls over. “Shut your damn mouth if you know what’s good for you. And don’t you even dare look at her again.”
I stalk from the room, my heart thundering against my ribcage. What the fuck is wrong with me? One reason I made it to president is being level-headed. I don’t just lose my shit. I think things through. Stay calm.
Her. It’s because of her.I grit my teeth. It’s true, and I hate it. I’m a grown man and I’m losing it over a twenty-year-old. It’s just—there’s something about her that draws me in. That calls to me.
I’ve watched her for so long, observed all the little mannerisms that are uniquely her. I feel like I know her. Know her and love her. Not just because of her beauty, but because of the way she treats people. Her father never let her talk to strangers, barely even let her out in public, and yet she would find little ways to show others kindness. She’d show others kindness even when I could tell she was sad. Sometimes it was just one of her warm smiles, other times she’d casually drop expensive jewelry next to a beggar, grinning at him conspiratorially.
Oriana is fundamentally good in a way that can’t be taught. It’s something that comes from within her, that she brought with her when she was born. Despite the sadness that so often surrounds her, she still radiates warmth and sunshine and the only thing I want to do is bask in her light. I want to bury my face in her hair and hold her. And then I want to fuck her until she screams my name.
The thought makes my cock harden and I pause outside my bedroom door, taking in a deep breath. I have to be careful with her. Right now, she’s still scared of me. If I ever want to stand a chance with her, I’ll have to convince her I’m not who she thinks I am.
After putting in the key code, I slip quietly into the room, not wanting to wake Oriana if she’s asleep.
I pad over to the bed, needing to look at her one last time before I sleep. The moonlight shining in the through the window bathes her face in silvery light, making her skin seem even paler. It illuminates the dried tears on her face. Almost against my will, I reach out a hand and trace them carefully, regret making my chest tighten. I hate being the reason she’s upset. But there’s no other way.
I try to make myself comfortable on the couch, but it’s just too damn small for me. I toss and turn, my thoughts as restless as my body. Just when I finally drift off, a strangled scream jolts me awake.
I’m on my feet in under a second. Oriana screams again, and I run over to her. She’s thrashing on the bed, the sheets tangled up around her pale legs, her eyes rapidly moving under closed lids.
I lay a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. “Oriana, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”
Her lids fly open and she flinches away from my touch, her eyes wide and terrified. “Get away from me!”
I take a step back, hands outstretched, even though her words are like a slap to the face. After watching her for so long, I feel like I know her. But to her, I’m a stranger. A stranger who drugged and kidnapped her. No wonder she’s scared of me. “No matter what you think of me, you have to believe I’d never hurt you.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “You already have.”
Now I’m the one flinching away from her. It’s been a long time since somebody said something that hurt me. But damn, this hurts. Because it’s true. “And I’m sorry about that,” I say, my voice like gravel. “But there was no other way.”