Page 72 of Captured Obsession

My jaw drops. “You didn’t?”

He scoffs, and from the corner of my eye, I can see mild amusement and approval in Nikolai’s expression.

“As if I’d let someone walk away freely after betraying my daughter,” he asserts. “I had to swallow my pride to call him to ask where you were. And then you show up here only a few days later?”

His gaze locks on Nikolai again, and I’m sure he’s aware that it somehow involves Nikolai, but I imagine whatever he’s thinking isn’t anywhere near as damning as what it actually is.

“Dad, I’m okay,” I tell him, and I feel the weight of that. “I was embarrassed, and I thought you’d be mad because of the negative press surrounding the Falcone name. I felt like I failed.”

His eyes widen. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t care less about such gossip. I never much liked him anyway.”

My jaw drops. “I thought you did.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. But he came from an influential family with a promising future, and you seemed happy. So, I supported it, but I don’t see it as much of a loss at all.” Then his gaze slides to Nikolai again. “And who are you?”

“Nikolai,” he says with his thick Russian accent.

My father’s eyebrows dip, and I know he’s waiting for his last name, or some kind of impressive resume as to why he’s a prime suitor for me. But, as expected, Nikolai offers none of that.

“Dad,” I say, reaching for his hand. “Nikolai and Iare … friends. We met while I was traveling. He’s taught me a lot about myself over these past few weeks.” I look at Nikolai, letting him see the sincerity in that. “I needed a break from … everything.”

My father seems to sink into himself. “Have I failed you?”

The question catches me off guard, and I’m quick to squeeze his hand tighter. “No, not at all. Why would you even think that?”

“I’m not as soft and kind as your mother was. I struggle to understand you sometimes. And when you went missing … I thought the worst.”

My heart sinks as I tighten my hold on him, and I see the lonely man who has moved on with his life in many ways, though never from my mother. He’s always been devoted to her, and at times I think it’s unfair to his second wife that she’ll never reach that part of his heart. But it’s always flooded me with love to know my mother was as special to him as she is me.

Strangely, it’s that moment when it dawns on me that after the last four months of me wallowing in my darkest corners, I’ve been reminded of her and her bright zest for life.

“You know, I think Mom has been guiding me through all of this, though in very odd ways.”

He looks up at me then, the sadness in his gaze very different from the powerful, successful finance CEO everyone else sees. Right now, he’s just a lonely man, longing for his dead wife.

“I went diving with a shark,” I tell him, and I notice how Nikolai goes rigid.

My father seems affronted. “Sienna, that’s dangerous.”

I break out into a smile. “Very.” And my voice cracks as I think about the escapades my mother used to tell me about. And I know my father is thinking of the same.

“Your mother always sought out adventures. It was hard to keep her in one place,” he says fondly. “And the swimming with a shark… Did you do this with her?” he asks Nikolai.

When I turn to Nikolai, he’s casually leaning his elbow on the table, most likely to intentionally disrupt my father’s ideal version of etiquette. But he looks at only me as he replies, “Yes, sir. Your daughter also has a wild heart.” Then he looks at my father. “I’d like to hear more about your wife, if possible, because I think I can already see a lot of her in your daughter.”

My heart squeezes, because this was the one part of myself I’d closed off to Nikolai. Conversations around my mother and my infertility are off-limits. I lost my mother, who was one of the most amazing people I’d ever known. The relationship between a mother and child is special, and I felt like a failure that I wouldn’t be able to have that with a child of my own.

My father’s gaze softens slightly, and as he leans in, he says to Nikolai, “You’re not like a thug or anything, are you, son?”

I roll my eyes at the question. But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my father open up like this. To simply be and accept the person in front of him. And perhaps it’s basically the way he met my mother.

They were from two worlds that shouldn’t have collided. She was a free spirit backpacking through Sweden, and he was there on business for the family. They met at a café, and were inseparable after that, despite my father’s parents telling him it was a bad match.

“I’m much worse, sir,” Nikolai says with a straight face. “Which means I can protect your daughter at all costs.”

My father looks confused, as if not understanding Nikolai’s humor, but says, “Ah, a man who can provide. Much better than that last one, at least. I heard he’s in a lot of debt now.”

“Dad, can we please stop talking about Michael?” I say, tired of hearing his name. Tired of revisiting not the moment I lost my fiancé but the moment my heart broke because I realized I’d lost myself in trying to fit into his life.