Page 7 of His Dangerous Secret

“I want to do woodworking,” I tell her. “Furniture. Have my own shop. But my dad won’t allow it.”

“So disobey him.”

I roar with laughter. “Disobey him? How about you disobey him? Do you know who my father is?”

“I’m his wife. Not his son.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. There would be some kind of accident. My shop would burn down or the guy supplying my lumbar would wind up with two broken legs or my clients would suddenly turn around and tell me they’ve decided not to commission me for a piece. He’d do something, Ava!”

Christ, why am I even explaining myself to her? The rage pours through my veins like hot acid. The life of a mobster’s son. Must be great. That’s what everyone assumes. The truth is, it’s more like the life of a prisoner. My life is not my own.

“All right,” Ava says calmly as she sips her drink. “I apologize, Riggs. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Great, now I look like an emotional little baby. “No, it’s fine. I—I just want you to understand the position I’m in.”

“You think I don’t?” she asks. “My father gambled all our money away, then sold me to Michael to repay his debt. I’m his property now. He won’t even let me see my mother.”

There have been times in my life where my hatred for my father reached what I believed was an all-time high. Like when I realized he had no qualms trafficking women or having his men sell drugs to high school kids. But now I feel my hatred for him beginning to boil over.

“I guess we were both blessed with a couple of great dads,” I reply sardonically.

Ava smiles and twists on the chaise, drawing my attention back to her body.

Again, I swallow hard and take a breath. My stony demeanor is legendary in the circles I move in, but I feel it slipping as I look at her. She’s found a way to get me to open up, lower my defenses, and bare my soul, and that’s something I’ve never done with anyone.

“I’ll help you, Ava.” The words fall from my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. “I don’t know how, but I will.”

“Riggs, I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“You don’t?” I chuckle. “What do you call what we’re doing right now? No, you’re right. I have to do something about my father. I can’t just keep letting him get away with the things he does.”

“It won’t be easy,” she replies. “And I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“He’s already hurt me, Ava. In so many ways. And now he’s hurting you. And that I will not stand for.”

It’s like I’m a preacher giving a sermon. Things I’ve always wanted to say just flow out of me, things I’ve suppressed for so long that have built up inside me, forming a pressure I never fully understood.

I can’t seem to hold anything back from her. Her body caught my attention, but she has stolen something much more precious. She’s snuck through my defenses and slid a hook into me. I’m powerless to escape.

Am I really capable of doing all the things I just decreed? I don’t know. My father is a powerful man used to having men come at him. He’ll be ready, and I don’t even know what my plan is.

But I do know one thing for damn sure…

Ava is not meant for my father; she’s meant for me.

5

Ava

It’s not even a realization that I’m in love with Riggs – it’s just the way things are, the way things have been since the moment we first met.

The pain of being sold by my father was matched only by the pain I felt when I saw Riggs and realized it would be impossible for us to be together.

I tried forgetting about him. Tried to ignore the fact that he was living in the same penthouse, and when he started spending more and more nights at his own place outside the city, I felt relieved. The sense of loss was there, but it was easier for me to simply pretend like we’d never met, like he didn’t exist.

I tried convincing myself he’d never return. Every night before I went to bed I told myself that when I woke up I wouldn’t remember him, or Michael would tell me he’d gone somewhere and would never return. And every morning I woke up defeated.

Riggs was set in my mind like an immovable stone. The glances he sought to hide from me were the sparks illuminating my gray, desperate days. No matter how hard I explain it to him, I doubt he’ll ever understand just how much those glances meant to me.

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