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Chapter Sixteen

Tessa

I throw my door open, half-expecting to see Nathan waiting for me on the other side and knowing that I won’t be able to resist him tonight.

I just want to stop thinking and… feel. Nathan knows just how to get me out of my head and focus on the here and now.

But it’s not Nathan.

It’s my father. The one who has never visited me since I left home, not at UCLA or even at Northeastern. And now, he’s here, at almost midnight.

What the hell?

“Dad? How do you even know where I live?”

“Oh, come now, you told Joyce. She mentioned that you were staying in the Fount’s staff quarters.”

I don’t recall saying anything like that to Joyce or even telling her about working with the Fount, but then again, I was really upset by that argument with my dad, so the details are patchy.

All I can clearly remember from that night is how I got swept away by Nathan’s all-consuming passion. God, I miss him right now.

I give myself a quick mental shake to get rid of the heated memories.

Get it together. Can’t be dreaming of another man while your father is standing right in front of you.

I step aside to let him in, not seeing any other way around it. “Dad, to what do I owe this visit?”

He comes in and looks around. Immediately, his eyes snag on the scattered pages on the table.

Detective Warner mentioned that my dad got a binder, too. So even if he never read them like he claimed, he undoubtedly recognizes my mother’s journals.

“Don’t tell me that you’re wasting your time trying to make sense of that load of unmitigated crap.”

For some reason, I don’t want to antagonize him tonight. I just want to get this visit over with.

“It’s gibberish, I’ll admit, but the Valencia PD keep asking me if I’ve read through them so I can help with their investigation.”

My response seems to put him more at ease, his shoulders losing their tension, but he still has a judgmental look on his face. “You should have been smarter from the beginning and not gotten involved at all. Anyway, how are you?”

I’m still trying to work out what he’s doing here. He needs something, that much I’m sure of, but what? “I’m good. What do you need, Dad?”

“Joyce really wants you at the wedding and somehow thinks that you won’t attend because at the engagement party, you left abruptly with Nathan King. ”

His tone is deceptively casual, but I know better. He’s watching me like a hawk, waiting to dissect every nuance of expression on my face.

The reason John Blackwell is here is because of his last six words.

He wants to know what’s going on between Nathan and me—and perhaps to check if I know about Ciaran King, the man he stole my mother from. The man who stole my mother’s love back. The man whose twin brother stripped him of his wealth, took his daughter’s loyalty from him, and is now possibly sleeping with her.

I can understand his pain and his hatred for Nathan, but he’s not some innocent victim.

I decide to go on the offensive. “Is it true, Dad?”

“Is what true?

“The affair between Ciaran King and Mom?”

He visibly pales, probably because he doesn’t expect that I would know about Ciaran, but he recovers quickly. “I’m afraid so, Tessa. Mary was a master pretender. She enjoyed playing games and repeatedly used the man for sex, deceiving him into thinking that she would leave me for him.”

“You realize that the detectives would see that as a motive if they found out that she was unfaithful to you?”

A sneer overtakes his face. “I bet that’s why King told you about it, the sneaky motherfucker. It’s too bad he can’t pin me to the crime scene. Has it occurred to you that King himself has a stronger motive to kill your mother than I do?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mary destroyed his twin brother and caused his suicide. Has anyone thought of asking King where he was at the time of Mary’s death?”

I can’t say anything to that because it’s too ludicrous to imagine. Nathan is not a killer. “If you suspected any foul play in Mom’s death, why didn’t you say that to the police when it first happened? Why would you be satisfied with them ruling it as an accidental death?”

He shakes his head in disgust. “I keep telling you, Tessa, you’re too damn gullible—”

He suddenly breaks off in a coughing and choking fit. “Ex–cuse me,” he manages in between coughs.

“Are you okay?” I move closer but resist the urge to thump on his back.

He nods his head, still hacking away. “Water, please.”

A knot of concern settles in my gut. Maybe it’s because I’ve been working in a cancer center, but I’m already imagining the worst. I quickly fetch a glass from the kitchen, fill it with water, and bring it back. He takes it gratefully, downing half of it in one gulp.

He eventually settles after another prolonged coughing fit. “It’s this damn irritating cough. I can’t get rid of it, no matter what I try. It hits out of nowhere, and sometimes, I cough up a bit of blood.”

I don’t want to care, but I can’t help it. He’s still my dad, after all. “You should get that checked out. Having a cough that doesn’t go away over several weeks isn’t a good thing.”

“Oh, yes, definitely. I’m seeing someone about it next week.”

I debate whether to get him to leave or continue to ask about Mom. My curiosity wins out.

“But why did you pursue Mom in the first place? She was clearly with another man at the time. Was it because Ciaran was dirt poor and worked for your family, so you wanted to prove that you were better?”

A terrible look creeps into his eyes. “That’s what his brother told you, isn’t it? He sure has a lot to say about your mother, doesn’t he?”

I know he’s trying to plant seeds of doubt into me. Trying to get me to doubt my reality. It’s what he does, but I know all his tricks by now.

“No, Dad, you tell me your own truth. Because it seems like you pursued a woman who was in love with someone else, and then, out of the blue, she’s engaged to you. Did your family threaten hers? Blackmail her?”

“I told you, she was playing games. She was never going to marry that lowlife. We were in love from the beginning, but even I couldn’t put up with Mary when I realized how thoroughly disturbed she was.”

The accounts I’ve heard from Nathan and my dad don’t align, but I know whose story I believe.

“Are you saying that she was playing both of you at the same time? The poor, new girl who’d not long moved to the States from another country?”

He must hear the skepticism in my tone because he says, “You should be careful with whatever Nathan King is feeding you. Mary was your mother. Her death was tragic, no doubt about that. But ultimately, you decide if you want to believe someone with an ax to grind with our family over the cold, hard facts.”

“Our family? We’ve never been a family. You adopted me as a tool to make your wife happy, and when I couldn’t fulfill that purpose, you were more than ready to discard me.”

“Now, Tessa—” he tries to interject, but I don’t let him.

“All those times you tried to justify your affairs, saying that Mom was frigid and emotionless, you never once told me it was because Mom couldn’t stop loving another man while married to you.”

Throwing his hands in the air, he sends me an incredulous look. “What did you expect me to say? Desecrate your memories of her by telling you what a slut she was?”

I flinch, repulsed by his callous words. “Possibly. You never had anything good to say about her anyway, dead or alive.”

Instead of replying, he changes the subject entirely. “Who else do you think has a copy of that journal?”

“Why do you care? It’s just a load of crap, isn’t it?”

He appears to lose some of his animosity, and his voice softens. “I’ve told you so many times, Tessa, the Blackwell family is a closed unit. Whatever happens with us stays within the family. We might be at war among ourselves, but we maintain a perfect front so that the generations coming after us have a name they can be proud of.”

He takes a step closer to me, his tone earnest. “I’m just trying to protect the Blackwell legacy. Something you should be concerned about instead of peddling half-baked speculations from an aggrieved party.”

Okay. I’m no longer interested in finding out why he married Mom, I just want him out of my house.

The quickest way to achieve that is to play along. “Okay, I hear you, Dad. As far as I know, no one else has been given the journal. I can’t say if the detectives have been speaking to other people, though.”

“Good,” he says and seems to visibly relax.

“You can tell Joyce that I’ll be at the wedding. Otherwise, you can rest easy that I’ll cook up a fantastic excuse that she’ll believe.” I stare pointedly at the door, hoping he gets the message before I need to throw him out.

“Fair enough. Just remember that whatever King tells you, it’s more lies than truth,” he insists, not showing any intention of leaving yet.

“Okay, I won’t listen to his lies anymore.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Nathan’s name. A small sigh of relief slips through before I can stop it, then I whirl around, turning my back on my dad to take the call.

“Hi.”

“Baby girl.”

My heart melts at the sound of his voice, and instantly, my frayed nerves begin to settle. I was angry with him and worried sick after he stormed out that we wouldn’t speak for days again, but now, all I feel is joyful relief.

I mute the call for a moment, then throw my dad an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I need to take this, it’s from work—and it’s the overnight team, too, so I might be a while, okay?” I wait a beat, expecting him to take the cue to leave.

“Oh, go ahead, it’s okay.” He sits down on the couch and crosses his ankles. “I can always see myself out if you take too long.”

I resist the urge to grit my teeth. He always uses this act when he doesn’t get his way. He hates being interrupted and always has to have the last word, even if it means waiting for the interruption to stop to do so.

I leave him sitting on the couch, then go through the hallway into my bedroom, lock the door, and sit on the bed. I’m hoping that he leaves before I’m done since I have nothing more to say to him.

I unmute the call. “Hey, Nathan. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have let us leave things the way we did tonight. We really are beyond walls and masks, don’t you agree?” he rumbles, and I have to close my eyes against the tide of pleasure rising in my chest.

“Do you know what I mean?” he presses when I don’t say anything.

I do. “We’re beyond acting like we don’t care.” Like what’s between us isn’t bigger than what either of us can dismiss.

“Absolutely. I know that it was hard to hear about your mom, and perhaps I could have delivered it in a more thoughtful, less jarring way. I’m sorry, Tess.”

A giddy smile stretches my lips. “It’s okay, Nathan, I appreciate the apology.” Hearing him say that he was sorry for the way he handled things is all I wanted, and now that I have, I know that I can move past our argument.

“So, I was frustrated and annoyed tonight, you know,” he reveals.

“Why?”

“I was frustrated because I want you, no holds barred. You keep saying that you don’t want to be an item, but your eyes, Tess, they tell a different story.”

I wonder if he knows that I was on the verge of confessing my feelings to him tonight before I got swept over with guilt when I heard what happened to Ciaran.

What my family did to him.

He continues, “And I was annoyed because you didn’t think I had anything to offer you.”

I suck in a breath. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t a very kind thing to say.”

“Not to mention untrue, Tess. I do want to give you more.”

My heart starts to pound harder in my chest, anticipating what he might say next. “What are you saying, Nathan?”

“I’m saying that we should probably negotiate how much you’re comfortable with because I want to make you mine.”

Oh, my God.

I expected he’d say something like this, but I wasn’t prepared for him to say it quite like that. All growly and sexy.

I desperately try to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth while ignoring the fact that my ovaries are going stark raving mad. They have to be, because there’s nothing sane about the tightening and fluttering going on in my pelvis.

I press a palm flat against my throbbing stomach.

“Er, Nathan,” I begin.

“I understand if you want—or need—space to process everything.”

“I don't want space per se…” I say quickly.

“Tell me what you want, then.”

You. Deep inside me.

Where the hell did that thought come from? I bite my lip to hold in a whimper.

When I don’t respond, he rasps, “Let me start. I want to see you tonight. I really need to hold you. Do you want the same thing?”

How am I already slick with arousal?

“Yes,” I whisper. School finals be damned.

“Good, I'm coming to you right now. There’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about the journals. But we don’t have to get into that tonight. Tonight, I just want to hear you snore.”

I giggle. “Maybe I only snore after I’ve had my brains fucked out.”

“Jesus, Tess. We’re on very thin ice here, and you know it.”

I smirk at his growly tone. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be pulling on your achy balls—ahem, legs.”

“That’s it, you’re getting a spanking for teasing an old man.”

“I don’t know, he’d have to catch me first. I mean, I’d like to see how fast the old man can run when he’s rock-hard and leaking pre-cum.”

“Theresa Jane Blackwell. You fucking temptress. In exactly twenty minutes, you’ll be on your knees with your dirty mouth stuffed full of my cock, and then, I’ll have you screaming so loud that the neighbors will hear you.”

My mouth waters, and my toes curl in anticipation. Suddenly, I can’t wait. I start undoing my jeans, so I can change into something sexy, when I remember my unwanted guest.

Crap. Nathan made me forget where I was for a hot minute.

“Fine,” I say with a feigned air of boredom. “You can do all that when you get your hands on me. But I've got company now, so make it an hour. My dad is here, believe it or not.”

“Come again?” Every trace of playfulness drains out of his voice.

“He just turned up on my doorstep tonight. He seems unwell, but I suspect he came to talk about you. I think he’s just heard something about us, and he wants to be sure that my loyalties don’t lie with the Blackwell enemy number one.”

When we went to Valencia together last week, I’d been too terrified to go inside the police station right away, so Nathan had pulled me out of the car and against him in a long and intimate hug, right there in the parking lot. That might have gotten tongues wagging all the way back to my dad.

“Is he inside your house now?” Nathan asks.

“Yeah, he’s waiting in the living room. Or he might have left in annoyance by now. But I didn’t hear the door, so my guess is that he’s still on the couch.”

“Fuck!”

I hear his curse but don’t quite get why he’s so riled up. Then again, they hate each other, and with good reason.

“I know, right? It’s very much out of the blue, not to mention at such an ungodly time. I have half a mind to throw him out right now.”

“Can he see you as we speak?”

“No, I’m in the bedroom. Why?”

“Listen to me, baby. It’s important that you stay away from John. Do not let him close enough to touch or speak to you.”

“What’s going on, Nathan?” Fear seeps into me at how serious and afraid he sounds, like he truly believes that I’m in danger.

“I saw some things in the journals just before I called you. He might be dangerous and no doubt up to something. I’m calling the police right now. Put the phone down and find an excuse to go outside. Do not stay in that house with him, do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, okay.”

My mind is racing with possibilities, but before I can launch into questions, he starts to make another call.

I hear him read out my address in a clipped tone into another phone, presumably his landline, while I focus on slowing down my breathing and keeping myself calm.

“Nathan, what did you find in the journals?” I ask as soon as he gets off the other line.

He pauses, and I know he’s debating what or how to tell me, which means it’s probably bad.

Like committing murder bad.

And the man in question is in my living room.

I run my free hand through my hair, grabbing a fistful of the strands, as Warner’s face floats before me. I recall his repeated pleas to read through the entries.

“I’m such an idiot for not reading Mom’s journals.”

“No, Tess. Even if you read them, you wouldn’t have figured it out. That’s one of the things I thought we needed to discuss. I just didn’t imagine that he’d turn around and target you.”

I hear shuffling, then a door shuts in the background. He’s leaving his house. “What do I do now?” I whisper, trying not to panic.

“If you can get past him, go into the kitchen, slip through the back door and into the back stairwell. You’re only a few floors up, so it’s not too far to run down the stairs. Or…”

“Or what?”

“If he’s being hostile or you don’t think you can get past him, then wait in your room, lock the door, and open the windows.”

I weigh my options. The bedroom door is already locked, but I feel far from safe. I don’t see how opening the windows will improve my anxiety. “Um… I’ll leave. I think I can get past him.”

“Good. The police will meet you out front, and I’ll be there before you know it. Don’t take anything with you, not even a coat. Can you do that for me?”

I don’t realize that my entire body has started shaking until I hear my bedframe start to creak.

“Tess?” he prompts.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be careful.”

“Okay, love, you’ll be fine. Go now.”

“Love? Surely, that was a slip of tongue, Nathan. You can’t possibly mean…”

“Tess, go !” he barks.

I jump at his authoritative tone, remembering the situation at hand. “Okay! Geez.”