Page 151 of Pink Ink

The extent of my interactions with Reyna lately have been in my studio, with her studying while I work. The only time we talk is during meal breaks, and that’s wholly insufficient for me. Especially since ourconversationshave been turned into an opportunity for her to interrogate me on everything to do with Shepherd and the Order.

Which leads me to today.

I invited her to my house under the guise of filming behind-the-scenes footage for my exhibit. Little does she know that I have no intention of letting her leave until tomorrow morning.

“So?” I push.

She drops her hand, swinging the camera. “I chickened out. Okay? Can we not talk about it?”

I turn away from the half-painted canvas. “No. We’re talking about it.”

“I have nothing to say.” Reyna brings the camera back up to focus on me, which is useless since the whole point of this is to have behind-the-scenes videos for the exhibit.

It’s been rather tricky since half of the installations are a surprise.

Grumbling, she turns the camera off, then places it on the table before leaning against it, staring at me in distaste. My cock stirs when my focus goes straight to her thighs as she crosses her legs at the ankle.

Christ, I miss having them around me.

“Speak,” I order.

She glowers at me. We both know I won’t let this go. As much benefit as I might receive from being Shepherd’s future son-in-law, and as selfish as I am for wanting them to rekindle so I can keep living the good life, Reyna should have a relationship with her dad. Even if he’s a massive cunt.

“He lied,” she says.

“Go on.” I nod, adjusting myself to hide the hard-on I’m sporting while we’re having a serious conversation.

“He faked his death.”

She uncrosses her legs and folds her arms. Because I am but a simple man, my attention drops to the swell of her breasts. I clear my throat and force myself to think of dying kittens and accidentally breaking a brand-new graphite pencil. “Both very awful. Please continue.”

“He was alsoneveraround.Andhe hurt Mom. Are we also forgetting that he tortured you?”

“We can both agree that he will never win any father-of-the-year awards. But he’s also the reason your mother was able to have access to the best doctors in the country, why you were accepted into Cresswell midway through the year, and he got you into a nice flat with good security—”

“That you broke into several times.”

“I don’t count,” I point out, pretending that I don’t notice her chest rising with her heavy breath. “And he’s probably the reason my father didn’t try to kill you sooner, and why you’re now one of the most protected people in this city.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “How do you know all of this?”

“Because I met with him.”

Her jaw drops. “What?When?”

“Eight a.m. this morning at the diner. I went in case you needed moral support—or if you needed help strangling him. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t there.”

“Was he…” Reyna averts her gaze to the floor. “Telling the truth?”

“I did my own digging after I left. He was.”

The stool groans as I rise to my feet and pull her into my arms—which is a massive bloody mistake because now her body is right against me, and my dick isveryaware that I could be buried inside her in five seconds flat.

“I’m not telling you to forgive him or give him a chance.” I didn’t deserve either of those two things from her. “A man in his position has a lot of enemies, and there might not be any second chances if something happens to him.”

She leans her head against my shoulders, and my heart does a flip. “Mom always insisted I give him a chance.”

I hum my acknowledgment as she groans and hits her head against my chest. “It’s so stupid.” She pulls back, and I cock a brow at her. “The whole reason I moved to New York was to learn about that prick.”