Page 215 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Dad turns to me.
“Had a hell of a time finding you, girl,” he huffs.
Holden stiffens, but I shake my head.
“Hi, Dad,” I say cautiously. “Howdidyou find us?”
“I hounded the cops all night, for one. Pulled every string the Blackthorn name can pluck. I knew you’d be with Verity, and when I heard the big ruckus in the news, I figured you were in trouble. Couldn’t leave you hanging, Cleo.”
I’m silent, still words bubbling in my throat.
But Dad doesn’t seem mad atme.
If anything, he looks distressed, running a hand through his hair and pacing back and forth across the room.
Holden moves beside me—easily in reach if I need him—but still far enough away so he’s not intruding.
“Dad—” I swallow thickly.
“No, me first. I’m a fucking fool, Cleopatra,” he growls.
Whatever else I expected him to say, that isn’t it. I go silent.
“I could’ve prevented this whole damn thing—and you, risking getting yourself killed over that stupid treasure.”
“But I didn’t die, Dad. And I wasn’t exactly open with what I’d inherited, so that’s on me,” I say, knowing I need to speak before Holden snaps.
I can feel protective Doberman energy rolling off him, filling the room.
But this is my dad and no one can protect me from him.
“You could’ve died for nothing and it’s my fault,” Dad snaps.
“I’m so confused. Why are you saying that?”
He drags a hand down his face. I think he’s hungover again, wearing a rumpled button-down shirt and slacks he’s probably had on for days. The bags under his eyes are puffy, though I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or grief. His whole face looks swollen.
Jesus, forget my brush with death.Heneeds to stop before he kills himself.
But a wave of frustrated love rolls through me. Because I’m watching him self-destruct in front of me, yet he still cares deeply for some reason.
He drops into the sofa.
“Shit, I need a drink,” he mutters.
“We’ve got water. I’ll grab you some,” Holden clips, striding to the fridge for a bottle.
I slide off the table and approach the sofa slowly, cautiously. I really don’t get what has him so poleaxed. Is he hallucinating?
Did he read the news about the heist we thwarted and just let his own imagination run with it?
“Dad,” I whisper, grabbing his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Thanks.” He accepts the water from Holden, then looks at me with this hard black sadness in his eyes. “Don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know how.”
“Just try,” I urge, rubbing his hand.
“Uncle Leo left me an inheritance.” The words slam me in the gut. Holy shit, if I wasn’t gripping the sofa, I might fall over. “A trust I’ve had for a while, meant for the two of us with strict rules. But I was proud and angry. I couldn’t give up my demons, girl, you know how I am.” He pinches his nose.
