Page 43 of Forbidden Eyes

I wipe the smile off my face and glance across at her, watching the way she chews on her bottom lip, a slight crease of annoyance on her features. She’s right to be angry, I guess. I would be, too, if I’d found all that shit out about my father and begun to realise who he really is. Let alone the fact that she’s pissed as fuck that I’m denying her anything more between us. I have to, though.

Nineteen.

Virgin.

Vico’s daughter.

The gates swing wide and we travel along the gravel up to the house. She’s barely spoken the entire way here, so fuck knows what’s about to kick off when we enter the house. Not that she’ll get anywhere with whatever attack she’s about to launch at Quinn. He’ll cut her dead, just like he’s done to me a thousand times, especially when I was her age. He’s got that way about him, the ability to make you feel like a juvenile fool under his gaze.

And definitely under his fist.

My teeth clench at the thought, my neck rolling to try loosening up my muscles after the flight. Something gives me the feeling I’m gonna get a beating at some point.

For her, and what we did in those minutes on that hood, I’ll take it.

“What would you do?” she asks out of nowhere.

I pull the car to a stop; glad Logan’s car is nowhere to be seen. The last thing I need is that prick holding this over my head. The engine cuts and I lean on the wheel, looking up at the place that has been my home for most of my life. What would I do? I’d walk on in there and confront Quinn. I’d make him show me everything before I went back to my father just so I would have everything necessary for the argument. I’d want all the information. I always do.

“I’d do what you’re going in there for.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

I lean back and turn to face her, a sigh coming at what she’s about to go do. Part of me thinks she shouldn’t. She’s got everything in life. Ease. Wealth. Smarts. A family who love her and will do anything to protect her. None of those things are to be sniffed at. Why fuck it up? It’s not her, though, is it? She’s too focused, and now pissed at all the lies.

“I guess I’d demand answers. And if I couldn’t get them, maybe I’d leave it all behind and start over somewhere new.” She tilts her head at me, a quizzical crease on her brow.

“You’d leave Uncle Quinn?”

“If I wasn’t trusted or if I was kept in the dark. Couldn’t do my job without either of those. Wouldn’t feel right.”

She nods at that and looks at the house rather than me, her hands palming her knees like she’s trying to build up the courage to go in. “But he loves you, Fia. That’s not something you should throw away lightly. No matter what.” It’s sure as shit better than what I got from my father.

“I know Uncle Quinn loves me, but—”

“Not Quinn. Your father.”

Her brow furrows, warm chocolate eyes turning to slits and bringing all that Vico attitude straight to me, and then her hand ratchets the door handle, one leg sliding out. “What he’s done isn’t love, Carter. He’s a monster. He doesn’t even know what the damn word means.” The door slams in my face, hard enough that the car shakes a little.

Jesus.

I crack my neck out to loosen the muscles up some more, itching for a round on the punching bag to set me right. Seems like a war’s about to kick off, with Quinn being the first in the firing line. The thought makes me get out and watch her glare at the house as she revs herself up into a spitball of venom.

“Don’t say another word, Carter. I’m doing this. You’re not talking me out of it.”

“Not gonna try,” I say, walking past her towards the door.

I am going in first if she’s going to do this. That’s the thing about me. I don’t run. Ever. If I set my mind to something, I’m all in. It’s one of the things the man I’m heading for admires about me. No sneaking around like Logan does. No lies. I own what I do whether it’s a fuck up or not. And the shit I’ve done with her, no matter how much I damn well enjoyed it, is one hell of a fuck up.

I walk across the lobby, crossing to the main lounges to search for him. He’s not there, so I turn and keep going towards the office instead.

All in. No fucking walking away from anything.

Her footsteps echo behind me until she catches up and reaches my side, her hand brushing mine. I half tilt my head to acknowledge it, wondering if she feels the impulse to hold onto me, but then I shake the fucking feeling off and keep walking. What’s about to happen is nothing compared to what’s gonna happen when she gets home, and I’m not gonna be there with her for that. She can hold onto herself for strength this round, get used to the feeling.

“Carter? That you?” Quinn calls from behind the heavy doors.

“Yeah,” I call back as my hand reaches to pull the door open.