Page 5 of Brazen Obsession

Sara turns to me with questioning eyes.

Fuck. He’s willing to do everything to make sure his heir is born into his family. Meaning he wants to force the issue of me and Sara getting married by any means necessary. Even if it means crushing the woman I love to get it done.

He doesn’t need to know about Natasha, but I need to come clean about Sara.

“Sara’s not pregnant.”

My father stiffens, but caps the scotch.

Sara squeezes my hand. I’m glad she’s here for me, but I’m also afraid that I just blew her up for no reason.

“The reason I lied was to give her protection from Peter Sokolov. I love her and didn’t want him to do anything to her. It was strategic.” I drag in a breath.

“That’s smart.” The words and the tone of pride sound foreign from my father. He turns with two glasses of scotch and returns to us. He hands one to me and I take it, holding the glass on my knee.

My father sits and takes a sip of his scotch. His gaze darts between me and Sara, and then down to our still-joined hands. He releases a breath and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair.

I’m not sure what to do here, so I just wait.

My dad opens his eyes and sits forward like he’s come to a decision. I tense again, not really wanting to hear what he’ll say. All my life, my father tried to control me. Now that I have Sara, he knows my weakness and has something to hold over me to make me compliant.

His knowing gaze flicks between me and Sara and then he chuckles.

“I was wondering how far you would let me drive this.” He finishes the contents of his glass and sets it on the end table. “As stubborn as you always were, I figured I’d at least get you to the wedding day before you broke.”

My eyes narrow on him. What the fuck?

“I looked into your medical history.” He smiles at Sara. “I always liked you. You know how to present yourself at functions. Grace embodied. I didn’t know if Finn would ever pull his head out of his ass to do something about it. Your father was a good man.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sara’s voice is a little choked.

His smile softens in a way I’ve never seen from him before. “You remind me of Finnigan’s mother. She was amazing and beautiful and kind. My rise to the top came at a price that was too heavy to pay. But I swore I’d never let Finn pay that cost.”

He rarely mentioned my mother when I was growing up. All I remember is she was there and then gone, and all the sunlight and joy left our house. But Sara gave it back to me.

“You’ve stumbled into some bad shit.” His eyes meet mine with a raw seriousness. “Peter Sokolov is doomed. The Feds have enough, with what I’ve provided, to put him away for a very long time. Though his prison will likely be the equivalent of an extended golf vacation.”

My father returns to his happy go lucky mood, but I’m reeling. What will this cost me?

I want to grab Sara and run and hide, but I know there isn’t anywhere I can hide from my father that he won’t find me. I’m just grateful he gave me that illusion for this long. The illusion that I was finally out.

“You’re a very lucky woman, Sara.”

She startles next to me. “I am.”

“Those men love you and will do anything for you.” My dad smirks. “I have a man who’s going to need a few days rest after your friend took him down. I’m glad I told them not to injure any of you.”

I still don’t know what to say to him. This means something, but I can’t quite figure out what.

“You should go back to the house your friend Drew bought last night. No one will look for you there.” My dad stands and walks around his desk before lowering like a king returning to his throne and all the responsibility that comes with it. “You need a safe space while Peter’s guys are rounded up and hung out to dry. It will take some time, but you should be safe in the city. I’ll have a few more of my men watch over you to make sure no one bothers you.”

I haven’t moved. There’s always a cost. He’s taken the threat of Peter off the table, but there’s still his henchmen to worry about. But my father is assuring us that they’ll be taken out soon.

I can’t help but ask, “Why?”

My father leans forward on his desk and clasps his hands together on the leather writing surface. “I promised your mother I’d look after you. I didn’t do a great job of raising you, hoping you’d step into these shoes because you’re my blood.”

Something I never wanted to do.