Page 23 of Savior
“I drove six hundred miles to speak to my daughter. Not her bikerboyfriend.” He snaps at me.
I say the words slowly, so they sink in nice and deep, “You’re not talking to her boyfriend.”
His clenched jaw slackens. His expression sliding from anger, to surprise, then straight into disgust, before he looks back at Vanna. “You married this, this-”
“Man!” Vanna cuts him off before he can insult me again. “No, Dad. Not yet, anyway.” She finally lets her family see the ring I gave her. I just wish her left hand wasn’t clutching the base of her throat now, the way Jack Nero fucking trained her to do... “We only got engaged on Christmas Eve, barely two months ago.”
Giuliana seems to be the only one of the three, happy for Vanna, as she stands up and snatches her sister’s hand to examine the ring.
It’s simple. Understated, if I’m being honest. A platinum gold band, with a solitary, radiant cut diamond. I’m sure they would have expected a more extravagant, showy engagement ring. Something more expensive than what it may actually be worth to anyone else. However, that’s my mother’s diamond. To me, it’s priceless, and even the large rock on her mother’s finger, doesn’t compare to its worth or beauty.
I wonder if Vanna would feel the same, if she knew. I’m not sure why I never told her, but I know she loves the ring regardless, because she loves me.
Her father lets out a sigh, looking as though I’ve slighted him. Having skipped the whole tradition of asking for her father’s blessing and permission, for her hand in marriage.
Fuck that and fuck him.
“This doesn’t seem a bit hasty to either of you?” he huffs, though he already sounds defeated in this situation. I’m glad he realizes this is happening, with or without his blessing or consent.
“When you know, you know.” I counter him.
“Have you been married before?”
“Unfortunately. I was unaware of your daughter’s existence up until a year ago. I’m happily divorced. Ecstatically engaged.”
“You’re a bit older than my daughter. Do you have children?”
“I’m no older than Jack was.” I remind him. “And, no. I don’t have children.”
“Are you pregnant?” her mother asks, almost accusatorily and with a hint of dread. She really seems incapable of keeping the judgmental tone from her voice whenever she speaks to her daughter. I can’t help but feel a slight pang of anger. As if Vanna being pregnant with my kid, is the worst possible thing her mother can fathom. Lucky for her, her fear is unwarranted… I fight back a wave of disappointment in myself, and refuse to allow any fantasy to play in my mind. No sense in torturing myself over something that will never be.
Vanna sighs, extracting her hand from her sisters to wrap around my arm. “No, Mom. I’m not pregnant.” I can tell by her tone, that she’s concerned over my feelings about this particular subject. I place my hand over hers to let her know I’m alright. “Look, can we just take this whole situation down a few notches? Can we just try to… be, for a little while? I’ve made a bunch of food you guys have barely even touched. Can we just sit down and have a little meal together?”
I’m willing to do anything she wants. And to no surprise, her family seems eager to drop the apology conversation. Her sister and mother follow Vanna into the kitchen. Her father lingers behind with me. I can tell he feels awkward with the ball being in my court. He glances around my home once more, his eyes settling on the ornate chess table set up in front of the picture window in my living room.
He cocks his chin at it, hands casually resting on his hips. “You’re a chess man?”
“It’s been a while. But yes.” I reply. “Care for a game?”
His eyes slide back to me, studying me, as if he’s trying to weigh the risks and repercussions of losing a game to me. “Maybe later.”
“Fair enough.” I gesture towards our ladies in the kitchen, fussing over the trays and platters of food. “Shall we join our women?” I ask with a smile, rubbing the futility of the situation in his face. I’m rather good at digging, myself.
I’m not at all shocked to hear Vanna’s mother, once again picking at her as we approach… “Really, Giovanna, all of this food?” Can she not even appreciate the gesture? The fucking effort? “What are you going to do with all that’s left over?”
The way her eyes judge Vanna’s curves has my blood pressure rising again. I grab a fucking mimosa and chug it before I go off. The three years she spent hiding from Jack, had been three years she spent away from her family as well. And God damn them, it was probably the best thing she could have done for herself. Her self-esteem. They’re fucking toxic. No wonder they saw nothing wrong when it came to Jack.
I snake my arm around Vanna’s sexy, hourglass waist, and pull her body against mine.
“Us Bikers have a little motto… When life throws you curves, you lean into them.” I growl against her sensitive neck, making her giggle and squirm in my arms. “Your daughter is fucking gorgeous.” I don’t give a shit if I’m making them uncomfortable. Though Giuliana smiles at me when I glance in her direction, briefly gauging each of their reactions. Bringing my lips to Vanna’s ear, I whisper, though still loud enough for all to hear, “I can’t wait to marry you, baby.”
“And when is this wedding taking place?” her mother asks, shifting in her Chanel pumps. “There will be a proper wedding, won’t there be?” she suddenly seems worried, as if she fears telling her country club, high society gal pals that her daughter may possibly succumb to some white-trash wedding of some sort. “Not some quick magistrates office, or tacky Las Vegas elopement I hope.” Her eyes glance over my cut again, and I twist my face to bury it in Vanna’s hair, stifling an aggravated laugh against her head as I breathe her in to calm my elevating anger.
Vanna pats my forearm that I’ve still got wrapped around her, as if she can sense my rising temper and hopes to calm me. “Of course, there will be a wedding.” She lets out another sigh. “We haven’t ironed everything out yet. We just got engaged, Mom. We don’t have an official date yet.”
“Will we be invited?” her mother persists.
“What kind of question is that, Mom?”
