Page 45 of Inked Daddies

I open my mouth to answer, but his eyes drop to my leg before I can say anything.

The tattoo. Of course.

He stares at it, his expression darkening as he steps closer.

“Is that—” His voice rises slightly, incredulous. “Marie Eleanor Durand, is that atattoo?”

I had completely forgotten about the tattoo, still visible through its clear bandage. I’m suddenly grateful Sam thought to bandage it at all, given that we were pretty distracted. And naked.

I swallow hard, shifting my weight awkwardly. “It’s just a small one.”

“Asmallone?” His voice sharpens, and I can feel the disappointment radiating off him. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking it might make me less of a target,” I blurt out, the excuse tumbling from my lips before I can stop it. “You know, for…trafficking.”

“Trafficking?” he repeats, his tone incredulous.

“Yes. It’s a deterrent. Traffickers don’t like tattoos on their victims because it makes them more identifiable and less innocent, so they can’t make as much money on them. They consider women with them to be damaged goods…” My voice trails off under his disapproving stare, and for a moment, the silence feels unbearable.

Judging by the look on his face, that’s exactly what he thinks of me now too. Damaged goods, thanks to this tattoo. If he knew about anything else that happened tonight…

Finally, he exhales, shaking his head. “Marie…” His tone softens, but there’s still a hint of frustration in it. “You don’t need a tattoo to protect yourself. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what my friends at The Lethal Legacy are for. Don’t you trust us to take care of you?”

The mention of them makes my stomach twist, and I drop my gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. I need to change the topic, or I’ll lose it. “You have tattoos.”

“That’s different,” he says, his tone firm.

“Why?” I look up at him, bristling slightly. “Because I’m a girl?”

“No,” he says, sighing heavily. “Because you’reyou.” There’s a pause, and his voice softens even more. “You’re my daughter. And it’s hard for me not to look at you and see my little girl.”

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Dad, I’m more than just your daughter. I am anadult. I’m twenty-six! You can’t keep thinking of me as a kid.”

He chuckles to himself, a small, quiet sound that holds more warmth than I expect. “I know,” he says softly. “I know you’re grown. It’s just…hard to get used to.”

The tension in my chest loosens just slightly, but it’s not enough to make the guilt go away. “I’ll start dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving me off.

“But—”

“I’ll just make some eggs or order a pizza or something. It’s fine, Marie. Really.”

I hesitate, torn between guilt and relief. He cooled down faster than expected about the tattoo, and now I almost feel bad for growing up. Like I should apologize for taking his little girl away from him.

When Mom and I left all those years ago, I was still a kid, and then I came back as a woman. It’s no wonder Dad is having mental whiplash over it.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he adds after a moment, his tone softer now. “I was just worried. After what happened the other night…I couldn’t help thinking…” He trails off, his gaze scanning my face like he’s searching for something.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Really. Nothing happened. I just…lost track of time. You know how I am with books.”

He nods slowly, but I can tell he doesn’t quite settle in his mind. I wonder if, now that the traffickers saw me as a viable woman to take, it forces him to recognize my adulthood. I don’t think asking him that would help the situation.

The guilt settles deeper in my chest as I start chopping onions for the omelet he said he’d make himself. I shouldn’t have let it happen.

Not the tattoo—that’s easy enough to explain. But the shop. The guys. What happened tonight wasn’t just crossing a line—it was shattering it.

And if Dad ever finds out—if he ever even suspects—it would destroy him. They’ve been his friends for decades, and I can’t be the one to ruin that. No matter how much I want to go back.

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