Page 44 of Dash

With the tears came the memories. After my mother died, my father was angry. His only goal was to make money and expand his influence and power. He didn’t take me seriously when I fell in love with Dash at an early age, and he refused me his blessing when I came of age and proclaimed my love for Dash.

Father had insisted that I would not become the wife of the son of a lowly ranch hand, not even ifthat boyhad grown up to be a smart, educated, honorable man, a soldier who’d distinguished himself at everything he did. Father had tried to break us up many times before, but I’d defied him.

Right before Dash and Nix deployed on the mission that killed my brother, I’d accepted Dash’s marriage proposal. By then, we’d been a couple for a long time, since he officially and very formally had asked me to be his girlfriend when I turned sixteen. After college, we moved in together, although he wasgone on deployment so much that I often lived alone in our apartment for months on end. For years, I pursued my original career as a social worker, keeping as far away from my father, New York, and the Astor Group as was humanly possible.

Dash and I always planned to get married, but he had a chip on his shoulder. I came from a rich family. He didn’t. My father was particularly adept at wounding his pride and making him feel inadequate. For this reason, Dash decided to wait until he achieved financial success to give me what he’d termed “the life I deserved.”

None of that mattered to me. I loved Dash, and as long as I had him, I was happy. I did worry he pushed himself too hard. The guy was a machine, volunteering for the most dangerous missions, banking his bonuses and investing his money smartly, until he made a small fortune. On the day he proposed, he splurged to buy the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen, two entwined loops of rose gold, topped by a brilliant emerald-cut diamond. He’d had the ring embossed with a tiny dagger inside.

Looking back, our engagement must have been the event that triggered Father’s malicious plan to erode my trust in Dash. Nix’s death provided him with motive and timing. When Father showed me those pictures, he created a formidable convergence of events. He broke me.

“Sorry, Athena,” Father had said when I’d started to cry upon seeing the images. “You’ve been very stupid for a long time. Time to put stupid to rest.”

I’d agreed with him then. Now, I’d proven the point. To myself.

Looking back, his deception made sense. Nix was gone and Father had needed a new heir to carry on his legacy. I’d been his target, the only one of his daughters who wouldn’t, couldn’t say no. The wound I’d inflicted on Dash, on his honor, was irreparable. It was the death knell to the dreams I’d dared tohope for after I woke up at the hospital with Dash by my side.

Stupid idiot. You deserve the pain you’re in.

I cried for most of the night. The morning wasn’t much better, but somewhere after noon, I stopped, mostly because I ran out of tears. I dragged my ass to the en-suite and managed a shower. Facing my reflection in the mirror, I was shocked by my puffy face and my swollen eyes. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything, but I’d already failed Dash and myself. I wasn’t going to fail the Phoenix Foundation’s kids, Nix, or my sisters.

Throughout the last few hours, I’d neglected the food trays that had been left at my door, but now I was ravenous. I needed to be strong to be able to make it through tonight. I’d had my breakdown. Now I had to function.

Wearing a T-shirt and a pair of old sweats, I padded down the stairs, across the empty living room, and to the kitchen. For a brief moment in time, when Dash had been in my apartment, the penthouse had felt homey. Now it felt as it always did—cold and deserted.

Hair wet, eyes bloodshot, nose as bright as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, I stood on bare feet, rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Ms. Astor?” A deep, silky, otherworldly voice made me slam the fridge door.

“Holy shit.” I got into my best Krav Maga stand and faced off with a hulk of man standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the dining room.

“At ease,” he rumbled, like a volcano. “I’m not here to fight you.”

I released my fighting stance and studied him. He had biceps the size of hams and legs as wide as pillars. He wore his short, dark hair in a fade on the sides, and stared at me with laser sharp eyes that matched the hues of his mahogany skin.

“You scared me.” I stared at the apparition. “I didn’t seeyou there.”

His highly defined lips hardly moved as he spoke. “I’m used to operating in stealth.”

His words were precise, exacting. A neatly groomed stubble edged his jaw. His oval face sported a high forehead and a beautiful Nubian nose. His eyes were alert and predatory in a way that reminded me of Dash.

Good thing he’d said he didn’t want to fight me. If he got his big hands around my neck, I was a goner. Given his size, my inability to read his blank face, and the impressive muscles shaping his long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, I didn’t know what to make of him.

Might as well ask him. “Should I be trying to skewer you with a fork or something?”

“A knife would be more efficient for self-defense.” He stalked toward the kitchen counter while I wondered if his impressive dimensions classified him as a giant. “A blade from the butcher block will work better.” He selected a knife, turned it on its hilt, and bowing at the waist, offered it to me. “This one would do in a pinch.”

I took the knife he offered. “Should I stick it between your ribs now or later?”

“Hmm.” The sound resonated deep from within his chest. “The ribs are not your best choice for a blade strike. I prefer coming up from under the ribcage, then twisting the knife. For a quick death, I favor severing the spinal cord.”

“Whoa.” I stared up at him, realizing he wasn’t joking. “You’re a cheerful one.”

“You’re not so cheerful, either, ma’am.” He parked before the stove, turned on the burner, and after lifting the lid of the pot already sitting atop the stove, tossed me an immutable glance. “In fact, you look like shit.”

“Oh, wow. A giant savant.” I tsked. “How observant of youto notice my total state of dissolution. You know what? I don’t give a shit.” I dropped the knife on the counter and returned to rummage through the fridge. “Since you haven’t killed me yet, I’m gonna make a wild guess and say you’re one of Dash’s associates and not a charming one.”

“Charm is not a requirement for efficiency.” He stirred the pot on the burner. “On the other hand, never assume a man is not your enemy because he hasn’t killed you on sight. Some predators prefer to play with their prey.”

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