Page 79 of Painted Scars
“I dress this way to be noticed.” My voice is thin and brittle. “To control the room before anyone else can. I used to be the girl in the corner. Black dress, mousy blonde hair, nude makeup. Invisible and forgettable. Easy to overlook.” I bury my face in his chest. “Easy to corner and hurt.”
Grumpy Daddy’s hand passes up and down my back. He lets me tell my story without interruption or judgment.
“Now I’m loud. Bright. Bold. Armed.” I claw his jacket in my fists. “A threat painted in glitter. Now people don’t underestimate me.”
Shame heats my skin. I want to feel powerful when all I feel is fake. Fake color, hair, sharp humor. Nothing but armor and weapons. Everything constructed to keep predators at bay, so I never disappear again.
His finger tilts my chin gently. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone else, Cinderella.” I love the intimate drop of his voice and the soft clasp of my nape. “You don’t need the ball gown or the flashy shoes to earn your place. You’ve already got the crown.”
Damn. I ache when he calls me that. It hits somewhere no one has ever touched, not even my best friends.
“Are you offering to be my dark prince?” I need a moment of levity amid the darkness facing me.
His low chuckle vibrates through my body. “That depends. Do I need to be a red or orange flag for that?”
I stroke his visor, wishing to be rid of the last barrier between us. “Orange is just red waiting to be loved.”
He runs a hand down the side of my face. “I wish I viewed everything as a fairytale or a romance novel. To see the worldwith hope when I’ve seen one too many heroes not make it out alive.”
A dark outlook. “Maybe it’s time to see that you’re the reason victims keep going. The hero who gets saved, kiss by kiss.”
I press a kiss to the side of his visor, a promise of sugar and spice. Not just for him, but every buried voice waiting to be heard. He doesn’t acknowledge that, as if he doesn’t deserve saving.
Grumpy Daddy’s grip on my hand tightens. “I want you to fight with me, Glitter Bomb. Publish the stories and blow the lid off this corruption for the whole city to see them for what they are. I’ve got plenty more victims with testimony if you want to share it. You’re the only one I trust to tell it. But it terrifies me what might happen.”
God, I want that. But I’m scared after meeting Barry.
“They’ve already suppressed my blog when I previously published articles.” My voice is small and reluctant. “I’ve spent three years building a version of myself strong enough to survive. I don’t know if I’ll survive this.”
He touches my face as if it’s the last damn time he’ll get the opportunity with what he’s about to say.
I move to sit on the ledge, the mountain wind tugging at my dress and hair, trying to strip my thoughts with it. Daddy doesn’t press me for answers or dissuade me. That’s not how he works. He watches, measures, and plans the way someone used to stakeouts and long hours in the shadows does.
“Say I do this,” I break the silence. “What’s the plan?” I’m a little too on edge to come up with one alone.
He takes a seat next to me. “First, we’ve got to look at how you publish your articles. Anonymous or under your name.”
I square my shoulders as the weight of this hits harder. “Anonymous authors won’t land well with the public. They’reeasier to discredit. But a woman with a face, a past,thatgets people talking.”
“It also paints a larger target on your back and makes it harder to maneuver in the shadows.” Grumpy Daddy’s guttural growl says he hates those words. “They’ll dig and discredit you all over again, go after your family, file lawsuits. There’s a good chance they’ll shape your assault as false allegations to rattle you. Do you want to relive that, Glitter Bomb?”
I pull my jacket tighter, bracing against the wind. “If I don’t put my name on it, I feel like I’m still hiding and letting them win.”
He exhales slowly, releasing the breath he’s been holding. He understands that all too well.
“They tried to destroy me once. This time I fight back.”
His hand crosses over his body to pull my face to lean on his. “Fuck, baby, you’re so brave.”
I cover his hand. “Are you saying I’ve got bigger balls than you?”
He chuckles low. “If anyone’s walking into battle bedazzled in rhinestone armor, dick swinging, it’s you, Glitter Bomb.”
I snort. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Grumpy Daddy’s thumb strokes my cheekbone. “They have no idea what’s coming.”
I let out a quiet hum of amusement. I love that he sees me. Knows I need humor amid the darkness.
