Page 149 of Sins of the Hidden

"Trevor." Mom's warning tone carried years of marital shorthand as she began serving the roast.

"Claudia."

"You promised you'd behave."

"Didn't say how I would behave." Dad's eyes remained fixed on V's hands as they moved over the table. His gaze flickered to mine with every shift in my posture, darkening dangerously when V's fingers disappeared beneath the tablecloth, resting heavily on my thigh.

"I wish I could drink more," he muttered, glaring at V. "But I have to be somewhat sober for this stupid mission."

"Do you enjoy cooking?" Mom asked with genuine interest, clearly trying to ease the hostility crackling between the men.

V stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably until it seemed he might not answer at all. "With Oakley."

"Do you like puzzles?" Mom tried again, determination in her smile.

"With Oakley."

"What about board games?"

"With Oakley."

"Fishing! Men like fishing, right?"

V paused, his eyes narrowing slightly behind the mask. "With Oakley."

"Next thing you know, he'll only breathe with Oakley." Dad snorted into his whiskey, the liquor loosening his restraint. "You don't even know how to fish."

V's knife paused mid-cut, his eyes lifting slowly to meet Dad's challenging stare. "I know how to kill you with a butter knife."

Mom blinked rapidly, fork frozen halfway to her mouth. The statement wasn't delivered with anger or threat—just calm certainty, like commenting on the weather. That made it infinitely more terrifying.

Great. Ten minutes in and we'd already reached death threats. Maybe if I threw myself from the nearest window, they'd stop long enough to scrape me off the pavement.

My fork clattered to the floor when V's hand brushed the inside of my thigh dangerously close to where the vibrator was. Mom gave me a questioning look as V reached to serve me more food.

"You know," Mom said brightly, desperation coloring her voice, "it might be good if you two went on a mission together. Give you a chance to really get to know each other."

Dad blanched, his face draining of color so quickly I thought he might pass out, whiskey sloshing over the rim of his glass as his hand shook. "Are you insane?"

"No," V said flatly, his rejection overlapping with Dad's outburst.

"Jesus Christ," Dad finally said, setting down his utensils with careful control that belied the rage simmering beneath his surface. "Do you have a personality beyond my daughter? Any interests? Hobbies? Thoughts that don't center around her?"

V watched him with cold calculation, head tilting slightly as if considering the question seriously. "No."

Dad stood, chair rolling behind him until it hit the wall. "You think you can protect her better than I can? Where were you when—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching so tight a vein pulsed visibly at his temple.

V went perfectly still, the only movement the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Something crossed his eyes—not remorse, he wasn't capable of that. Recognition, perhaps. Acknowledgment that his absence had nearly cost me everything. It wasn't his fault, though.

My fingers instinctively touched my concealed jawline, and his gaze tracked the movement, lingering on the makeup I'd carefully applied to hide what we both knew existed beneath.

"Enough." Mom's voice cut through the discord. Her eyes locked with V's in a way few dared before turning to Dad. "My daughter isn't something to be fought over like territory."

Dad immediately settled at Mom's words, his hand finding hers across the table, gripping tight enough to whiten knuckles. His rage at V remained evident in every tense line of his body, but he respected her intervention without question.

"She has you in her life now," Mom continued, steady under his scrutiny despite the slight wobble in her voice. "We need to find a way to make this work. So please, just try to get along."

Dad's laugh held no humor, but he directed it solely at V, a sound like broken glass. "Work? After everything he's done? After what he is?"

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