Page 34 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

I shook my head, managing to meet his gaze as he stared at me in anticipation. “He didn’t hurt me,” I said, my voice a little above a whisper.

“Ye sure?” he asked, eyes boring into mine.

I swallowed hard, nodding my head.

In all honesty, that wasn’t exactly a lie. Daniel hadn’t hurt me—well, not physically, anyway. At least not the way Dad must have envisioned. Thinking about it now, I realized that my captor wasn’t half as wicked to me as he should have been, considering the kind of man he was.

“I’m mighty sorry, sweetheart. I never meant fer things to take this turn,” Dad apologized, his tone tinged with genuine remorse.

Change of subject. Thank God!

“It wasn’t your fault, Dada,” I said, my expression softening as I stared at him, taking in the bruises on his face.

“Yes, it was,” he replied, his voice cracking under the weight of his pain. “Did he tell ye why he took ye?”

I glanced up at Daniel for a second before returning my gaze to my father, nodding. “Yes.”

Dad shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, his palm on the glass. “Just hang in there, honey. We’ll get ye out of that place. I don’t know how, but we will,” he said, his words laced with promise and a glint of determination.

“I should be telling you that,” I said, placing my palm over his from my side of the glass. “You’re the one in prison.”

My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces as the realization hit hard.

Dad looked rough around the edges, a clear indication that he’d been in more than a few fights. He had enemies everywhere, and I wondered how he even shut his eyes to sleep at night.

I’d heard of men like my father dying mysteriously in prison cells, murdered in cold blood by someone with a grudge against them. This place was swarming with dangerous men—some of whom were here because of my dad. A lot of these inmates had an ax to grind with the O’Sullivans, and from the look of things, they hadn’t wasted any time in attacking Dad.

However, there was a consolation for his fear and anxiety. Dad was a powerful man, strong and well-connected. I was certain that he had formed some sort of mini gang with some of the inmates in here. He wasn’t alone in this battle—at least, I was sure of that.

My lips curled into an encouraging smile, eyes blinking back my tears.

“Stay strong,” Dad said, his voice low and even. “Yer a fighter, Scarlett. Keep fighting.”

“Alright, time’s up,” one of the guards said, stepping toward him.

He reached out, politely taking the phone from Dad’s hand. He pressed a button on the phone’s console, ending the call, and then hung it back on its hook on the glass partition.

I swiped a palm across my face, watching them take him away.

***

I lay curled up on the couch in our bedroom, unable to sleep, my mind occupied with the unplanned encounter with my father. Prison was a horrible place, and the scent of pain alone almost made me throw up in my mouth.

My fingers combed through my hair, my heart racing as I wondered what Dad was going through at this moment. Was he okay? Did he get in another fight? I felt my heart breaking by the second, and my breath was difficult to catch.

I needed a distraction from these thoughts that wouldn’t let me rest or think straight—something to help ease my stress. That was when I heard the front door creak open, drawing my attention. I sat upright, my feet on the marble as I stared at him, a mix of emotions flooding my system.

Daniel waltzed into the room, his movements fluid and his presence commanding my attention. His tie was undone, and the top three buttons of his shirt were as well, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his alluring chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was styled to perfection as his deep-set brown eyes bore into mine. His gaze was intense, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. He was so hot, so attractive.

The nearer he drew to me, the more my heart raced in my chest, my anticipation growing by the minute as I wondered what he was up to.

He halted, towering over me, his eyes down in my direction. Daniel lowered himself on one knee, his hand reaching out to caress my hair, fingers rubbing my scalp in a gentle massaging motion.

Fuck, it was so relaxing. This technique always had me craving him whether I wanted to or not. It was like his superpower, and he was so damn good at it.

He massaged the back of my head, through to the back of my neck, before both his hands landed on my shoulders. His fingers expertly digging into my flesh eased the tension in my muscles, helping me relax against my will. I wanted to call him out on the stunt he pulled back at the prison, but I was too weak to even have a proper thought.

I rolled my neck, basking in the euphoria of his hands on my shoulders, relieving me of stress.

---