Page 69 of Desperate People

I meet his rage with calm that feels like glass cracking beneath my skin.

“I didn’t sneak,” I say evenly. “She called me. I answered.”

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “She’s scared and you just sweep in like the hero? You think this makes you some kind of savior?”

“No,” I growl, my voice dropping low. “But I am the man who got her out. The one who showed up when she needed someone. Where the fuck were you?”

He lunges—one step—but Lucy’s voice slices through the room.

“Daddy, stop it!” she says, louder than I’ve ever heard her.

Her hands clutch the sheet like she’s holding herself together.

“This isn’t helping. I make my own choices. I called him. Not you. Not Uncle Josef. Not Mom. Him. Because I knew he’d come.”

Her voice breaks, just a little, and I want to destroy every single person who ever made her cry.

But Marat? He’s not hearing it.

“Oh, and he’s just some innocent bystander? Come on, Lucy, I’ve taught you better. You put yourself in the limelight, and this is what happens. The world is always watching. You think this doesn’t look like some publicity stunt? A lover’s spat between you and that slick motherfucker Rico El Tigre?”

Lucy’s breath catches, like he slapped her. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t give a damn about fair!” Marat bellows. “I give a damn about you! Your safety. Your future. Do you have any idea what this looks like to the press? The Board? The goddamn shareholders?”

And I snap.

I take one slow step forward. “You want to worry about the Board?” I say quietly, ice in my voice. “Worry about how they’ll react when they find out you scared the hell out of your daughter, berating her for something that isn’t her fault after bursting into someone else’s home, unannounced and completely unfuckinghinged.”

He glares, breathing hard.

“She’s not just the face of Volkov Industries. She’s a fucking person,” I add. “My person.”

Lucy gasps. I don’t look at her.

Marat’s nostrils flare.

“You want to tear me apart later? Fine. But right now, she’s exhausted. Shaken. Not to mention half-naked. So if you’re done blowing smoke and calling me names like it’s a playground pissing contest, maybe we can revisit this conversation when we’re not all standing in my goddamn bedroom.”

For a long beat, no one says a word.

Then Marat finally—finally—takes a step back.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he growls, eyes burning into mine.

“I know,” I say.

He looks to Lucy. “I love you. You know that.”

She nods, eyes glassy. “I know. I love you too. And I promise you, Balor is honorable, Daddy. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

I should step in now and do the right thing.

Tell her she doesn’t have to say all this.

Doesn’t have to give anything up for me.

Fuck. She’s so good.

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