Page 34 of Broken Princess

That's clearly not the answer he wants to hear because he mutters something undoubtedly profane under his breath and rakes a hand through his hair, stalking over to the window.

He lingers there, looking out at the garden below in deep thought for a moment, before he turns back to me. "It doesn't matter. It's not too late to fix this."

"Fix this?" I echo, my heart dropping into my stomach.

This is the moment I've been dreading. The thing I didn't know I feared even more than whatever he's going to do to me now that he knows. Whatever hole he's going to send me to a thousand miles away to hide his shame.

"No," I say suddenly, getting up from my chair. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins and my pulse is pounding in my ears. "No. I don't care what you say, or what you do to me. I'm having this baby. You can't force me to do anything."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that's a fantasy.

Of course he can.

He's Miceli Carillo.

He can do anything he damn well pleases, and the rest of the world just has to fall in line with it.

I'm still going to fight, though. Maybe I'm not ready to have this baby, and maybe I'll never be, but it'smine.

Dad frowns, a hint of confusion ebbing into the anger and sobriety in his gaze. "What? What exactly do you think I'm going to make you do?"

I know better than to answer, but two options immediately sprint to mind. Either forcing me to terminate the pregnancy, or forcing me to give the baby up once I give birth. I decide not to voice either fear, just on the off chance it would give him any ideas.

He looks livid for a moment, and my heart seizes in my chest, but the anger soon dissipates to something else entirely. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was guilt.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asks quietly.

I know better than to answer that, too. Mostly because I don't have any words that aren't inflammatory.

He just signs, running a hand down his face. He looks exhausted, and I can imagine this whole thing has probably added a few of those new gray hairs around his temples. "This isn't how it was supposed to be. None of it. Not for you."

I watch him in confusion, hesitantly asking, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't grow up in this world. You weren't supposed to be tainted by this mess," he says, waving his hand generally in the air. "Your mother was right about that, but it comes with its share of disadvantages, too. The chief one being that you have no idea what being my daughter means, or how much danger it puts you in out there. I thought I could shield you from it, but the fact that Milo found you is proof we were both naïve in that regard. And now you're pregnant with a Rossi's child, which means there's no turning back."

I blink a few times to clear my vision, but it's my thoughts I'm having trouble sorting out. "What are you saying?" I ask, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be. "Thought you could shield me from what?"

He turns to look at me, but doesn't say anything. Not right away. After a long pause, his voice is low and somber as he answers, "From everything. From the life. From all my enemies, and the people I call my friends who'd put a knife in my back as soon as they had the chance. From everything it means to be a Carillo, and all the things it means you can never be."

"Don't," I say, shaking my head. "Don't try to pretend like you're some saint. Like you sent me and Mom across the country to protect us, when the truth is really that you were ashamed of us. You were just protectingyourprecious reputation."

"My reputation?" he laughs bitterly. "You think I give a damn what anyone thinks? You really think having an affair with the maid is the biggest skeleton in my closet, Amelia? You have no idea half the twisted sins I've committed in this life, and I'll commit plenty more by the time you all toss dirt on my grave, but loving your mother was not one of them."

All I can do is stare at him in disbelief. He's never been this way before. He's never actually spoken words that felt like the truth, even if there's a part of me that doesn't want to believe them. A part of me that refuses to.

"But that's... that's not what Mom said," I protest, grasping onto the threads of the reality I need to maintain, if only because I've learned to live with it. The idea of getting my hopes up that another could exist is far too dangerous. "That's not true.Yousent us away."

"I did," he agrees. "But only because that's what your mother wanted. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but in the end, she was right. She wanted a better life for you. She wanted what was best for you," he says, his voice growing strained with the first hint of emotion I've ever heard from him that wasn't anger. "We both did. When you love someone, you want what's best for them, even if it isn't you. And when you're a Carillo who makes the mistake of loving someone, it means sending them as far away as possible."

He's in front of me now, even though I can't remember how he got there. I find myself frozen as he reaches out, his massive hand touching my cheek. It's rough and callused, probably from all the years he's spent with a gun in it more often than not.

His gaze softens as he looks down at me, tinged with nostalgia and pain. I recognize it, because it's the same aching, twisting thing that I feel so often I'd know it anywhere.

He never looks at me like this. He never really looks at me at all more than in passing or to judge what I'm wearing, and I always figured it was because I disgust him. Because I remind him of a mistake he wishes he'd never made.

For the first time, I'm left to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it's because I remind him of her.

"I know I've been a terrible father, Amelia," he says quietly. "I know I wasn't there for you the way I should have been, and trying to keep you safe doesn't account for all of that. But if you believe nothing else I've ever told you, at least believe this—I've never been ashamed of you. Not for one single moment. And I wasn't ashamed of your mother. She made me ashamed of who I was, because she made me want to be a better man—and I failed her. I failed both of you, but if there’s onething I've managed to do up until this point, it's keeping you safe. And I'm going to keep doing that. Even if it means you hate me for it."

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