Page 45

Dante

I glanced down at Rachel and immediately felt my stomach clench when I saw that she had already donned her blank mask.

Fuck me, I hated that thing.

She had such a gorgeous face, but I hated that blank look so much, I would quite happily slice the skin from her skull and drown it in acid so that I would never have to look at it again.

“Stop it,” I hissed down at her, pinching her arm with a painful nip.

“Stop what?” She asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

“The fact that you didn’t respond to that pinch – which I know hurt like a fucking bitch, by the way, is all the answer you need. Take the mask off.”

“And let her read my emotions? Not a chance. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and I want her to think I’m as empty and as fucked up as she already thinks I am. I would hate to disappoint.”

“You’re disappointing me.”

“Then I’m two for two and I’ve not even walked in the door yet. This day is turning out much better than expected.”

There was no point trying to talk to her.

This Rachel was not my Rachel.

My Rachel was as volatile as she was passionate. As toxic as she was loving. This robot was her defence, but I preferred the Rachel that was full of emotions. Some good, most bad, but at least it was real.

This Rachel was the source of most of our arguments, because she still used it to hide behind.

And whilst I enjoyed finding the holes in her armour, and awarding myself a silent victory when I managed to draw some emotion out of her whenever she got like this, now was not the time to enter into a long, bitter argument that would have the locals clutching their pearls .

The door opened before I could say anything else, and a woman stood before us, looking down her perfect nose as though we were literal pieces of shit that had crawled off the bottom of her shoe.

“Rachel,” she said, her voice haughty.

Fuck me. There’s two of them.

The woman was a carbon copy of Rebecca, albeit a little older.

She had the same blonde hair, perfectly styled.

The same blue eyes – which Rachel thankfully had not inherited.

Rachel had blazing green eyes that were as bright as emeralds when she was happy, and as dark as a storm when she was pissed off.

And you sound like a completely idiotic Shakespeare wannabe right now. Storm? Emeralds? Come out of the closet, Dante.

But it was true. These women were perfectly styled, perfectly dressed, perfectly beautiful. And it came with an expensive price tag. Rachel was rough around the edges. She was messy. She was disorganised. And my God, I loved it.

You’re throwing around that L word an awful lot lately…

Yeah, let’s not even go there.

“And I take it you’re the… Boyfriend,” she twisted her lips as though she had said the word “nazi”. I chuckled to myself, seeing Rebecca all over again. Iris had the same perfected look of superiority, and the same polite, yet “eat shit” tone of voice.

“Iris,” Rachel replied with a nod, pushing past her without waiting to be invited inside. The woman stumbled back, as though she was scared to have Rachel touch her and then turned to me with a vicious glare.

Fuck it, if this is what we’re doing, we’re doing it.

I grinned at her, giving her a small salute, and pushed past her myself, deliberately widening my stance to invade her personal space.

“Come on in, why don’t you?” She snapped, closing the door behind us.

“We all knew we were coming, so I’m not about to stand on your doorstep whilst you wield some weird power play and force us into small talk before you let us in.

I’ve participated in enough of your tests to recognise the start of one.

Not today, Iris. I take it everyone else is in the front room?

” She didn’t wait for a response. She pushed open the door and went into the room, sitting on the sofa nearest the window .

I didn’t sit down. Instead, I went to stand near Rachel, but kept on my feet, knowing the sheer size of me was enough to hold Iris back for now.

“Your dad is upstairs. He’ll be down in a moment. Tea?” she asked, aiming her question at neither of us.

“I’ll take a beer,” I said after a pause.

“I offered a tea.”

“I said I’ll take a beer,” I glared at her.

She gave me a pitiful smile. “A beer it is. Hardly surprising. Do you want a beer too, Rachel? How about a vodka? Gin and tonic?”

“I had no idea you had become such an alcoholic. I always knew years of having a stick up your ass would result in this. But a tea would be fine, thank you. Do you need me to make it, or have you got your withdrawal shakes under control?”

Iris made a “hmm” noise and then disappeared into the kitchen. Rachel watched her retreat, as though she didn’t dare take her eyes off her for a second and then got up to look around the room.

“Iris is just like my mother,” Rachel said, picking a picture up off the mantle around the fire. “She never changes a thing. Same old boring beige shit everywhere.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at the person in the photo.

“Stock image. Iris says they look nicer than any picture the family has ever taken.”

“Right…” I murmured. “She realises that’s psychotic, yeah?”

“She knows,” she shrugged. “It’s just her way of punishing everyone for not living up to her perfect standards. We don’t get to be memorialised forever on her shitty fireplace.”

“Give me that,” I grinned at her, holding my hand out for the photo. She handed it to me without hesitation. I unscrewed the back of it, popped the photo out, and slipped the pen out of my jacket pocket. “Porn-stache or full-on devil goatee?” I asked Rachel, the pen lid between my teeth.

“Porn-stache with devil horns. Combine the two. Let’s mix things up,” she grinned back. I quickly drew what she asked, replaced the photo, and handed it back to Rachel to observe my handiwork.

“He looks a lot like my uncle Richard with that stache.”

“Husband? ”

“No, milkman,” she grinned slyly as she replaced the photo, just as the door to the front room opened.

“You still spreading rumours that Iris was knocking off with the milkman, my girl?” came a soft but deep voice. I snapped my eyes up to the man it belonged to and immediately held my breath.

He had blonde hair, a shade or two darker than Rachel, as well as the same vivid green eyes. Eyes that held a warm, loving gleam as he looked at his daughter, even if his body was rigid with nerves.

“Oh my God,” Rachel breathed, already closing the distance between them.

“It’s good to see you, Dad,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist. She tucked her head under his chin, and he closed his eyes, hiding the tears that immediately flooded them as he rested his head on top of hers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart,” he sniffed. “Let me look at you,” he grinned as he opened his eyes, unable to stop the tears that spilled over his lower lashes. “Where has my little girl gone? And what’s this?” he said, picking up a strand of red hair.

“Mother loves it,” Rachel half laughed, half sobbed, bringing up her arm to wipe her tears on the back of her hand.

“I bet she does. Come here!” He pulled her back into a hug, and Rachel fell into him with ease.

I had to force back the feelings of jealousy that roared through me. He was her dad, for fuck's sake. But that didn’t stop me from clenching my fists and gritting my teeth.

Are you really jealous of an old man?

Yes. Yes, I was.

Because Rachel had never once been that way with me. She had never once come over and cuddled me, just because. She had never once willingly shown me any form of affection outside of sex. And even that could hardly be called affection.

“Are you okay?” She asked Chris, pulling away just enough to lift her head up to look at him, but not enough that her arms fell away from him.

“All the better for seeing you, love,” he sniffed loudly, a flush creeping over his skin. “Are you okay?” He scanned her, noticing the old bruises around her neck, the burn marks on her arms, and the bags under her eyes.

Here we fucking go .

Rachel just nodded in response.

“And who is this?” He asked, shaking his head and looking at me, as though he had only just noticed me.

“Oh,” Rachel said, turning around to face me. Her face looked puzzled, as though she had almost forgotten I was here. Once again, I had to suppress emotions I hadn’t expected to feel. This is the first time she had seen her dad in years. Of course he was going to be her focus.

Of course he was. That was just pure logic.

It didn’t mean I had to fucking like it, though.

“Dad… This is Dante,” she breathed as I walked over to them and pulled her to my side.

“Dante,” her dad repeated, holding out his hand to me, a warm smile on his face. “Nice to meet you. Chris.”

“Chris,” I repeated, the same way he said my name as I took his hand and shook it.

“Nice handshake you’ve got there. Firm. Powerful.”

“Needs must where Rachel is concerned. I’m constantly on alert. You never know when she’s going to strike,” I laughed, pulling my hand away. Rachel flushed slightly and stuck her middle finger up at me.

“You can say that again,” Chris laughed back. “She was always my little tomboy. I could tell you story after story of the fights she used to get into as a kid.”

“I could tell you story after story about the fights she’s got into at my club.”

“I’ve heard about your club. Rebecca said it was full of ‘ungodly heathens who haven’t washed in a decade’,” he used air-quotes to show me he wasn’t judging without seeing.

I twisted my lips slightly. “Yeah… We’re a bit rough around the edges.”

“They’re nice guys, Dad,” Rachel said, almost flooring me out of shock. And then, when I thought I couldn’t be any more surprised, she wrapped her arm around my waist and rested her head against my chest. “They’ve looked after me.”

“So, I can see,” he said quietly, his eyes looking pointedly at her neck.