Page 3 of Beauty and the Daddy

Every movement says he's bored.

The others are fighting.

He's shopping for coffins.

He's not just bigger. He's the goddamn king.

Every other fighter orbits him like he's their sun. Dark hair, broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and the kind of brutal grace that makes me wish he'd throw me over his shoulder.

My mouth goes dry.

I've seen hot guys before. Dated them. This is different.

This is watching a predator in his natural habitat.

The kind of dangerous that smart girls run from. The kind that makes my pulse race and my skin flush and my brain scream warnings my body doesn't want to hear.

Smooth muscle rolls under inked skin as he puts someone down hard enough to make me wince.

Then he laughs, I can see it in the throw of his head, and my thighs press together without permission.

"Belle."

I jump at my dad's voice, realizing I've been straight-up gawking like a teenage girl at a BTS concert.

"Who is that?" I ask, nodding toward the window.

Dad walks up to where I stand, and his face goes three shades paler, which I didn't think was possible considering he already looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"That's Luca Moretti." His voice shakes. "The Beast of New York."

"Luca Moretti," I taste his name on my lips as we go back to sit.

"Listen, Belle," my father whispers under his breath. "I worked with a guy who knew him once. He's not a man to be rubbed the wrong way. So, when he comes, you be good."

"Dad, why are we meeting with Luca Moretti?" I hiss, sinking down beside him. "What kind of trouble are you in?"

He doesn't meet my gaze. "Belle, listen. A few years back, I did some business with a man in Moretti's circle. I got to know things—what Moretti values, how to approach him."

"That doesn't answer my question," I press, anxiety clawing up my throat.

"The company's in trouble, Belle. Worse than I told you. We're not just behind on payments. We're..." He swallows hard. "We're underwater. And I borrowed money from the wrong people."

My stomach drops. "What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't want to bother you."

"We could have scaled down."

"I know, my sunshine. But our workers had bills to pay, families to keep a roof over."

Bless my father's bleeding heart. There was nothing more I could say.

My first ever memory of my father was of him helping a man who needed fast cash for his wife's medical treatment.

I have no idea what we're doing here still, and Dad looks scared as shit already, so I stay quiet.

Minutes pass by. The two hulks still stand around, and I wonder what they're doing here, exactly.