Page 68 of Desperate People

Because this is only the beginning.

Her father turns, and I get it. I even respect him, but I still fucking move.

One step, one turn and I’m standing between them, dick still swinging.

Just enough to remind him I’m still here, and I’m not letting him come at her like that.

“Dad, I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but how did the press find out? Did anyone follow me here?” Lucy’s voice is shaking, but there’s a steel spine behind it.

My girl is brave even when she’s terrified.

Marat’s chest heaves.

“No. I don’t know how they found out. I fucking found out who you were with after Uncle Josef questioned the team who cleaned your apartment.”

“They cleaned up?—?”

I feel her eyes cut to me, betrayal and confusion flickering in her expression like a live wire.

But I won’t look at her. Not yet. Not while her father’s still on the edge of exploding. Not until I know this fire is under control.

“Everything is gone, Lucy,” Marat continues, his voice softening just enough to be jarring.

He shifts gears, finally speaking like her father and not some enraged crime boss kicking down doors.

“Your bed. Your vanity. The—” He swallows hard, visibly pained. “The rest.”

That awful silence falls.

But I’m not letting my guard down.

Of course, he’s not done.

His voice hardens again.

“But imagine how your mother felt, Lucy. Reading about the break-in in Page Six. The reporters ran a piece calling you the ‘Billion-Dollar Diablita’ before dawn. She’s been calling, texting, panicking. Not one answer all night. I had to track your damn phone to find you.”

Lucy flinches. Her fingers tighten around the sheet she’s still wrapped in like armor.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I—I wasn’t thinking about the press. Someone broke in and violated my space and left something vile on my bed. I couldn’t think straight. I panicked. I called Balor because I trust him.”

“You trust him? The man’s a fucking criminal! A thug! A goddamn hacker!” Marat shouts, flinging his arm toward me like I’m some cockroach crawling across the marble floors.

“Oh my God! Pot calling the kettle black much?” Lucy snaps. “I’m an adult, Daddy, and I’m telling you, I trust him!”

She’s on fire now. Fierce. Defending me.

And I’m caught between disbelief and something that feels like pride, if pride could cut you open and leave you bleeding.

But I don’t want her to have to do that. Not for me. Not against her father.

Marat opens his mouth again, his jaw twitching, but I raise a hand—quiet but sharp.

“Enough.”

His eyes narrow to slits.

“You got something to say, asshole?” he snarls, stepping toward me like he’s spoiling for a fight. “We fucking trusted you. My brother gave you a job. Brought you into the family business. And this is how you repay him? You sneak into my daughter’s bed like a fucking wolf in the night?”

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