Page 67 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter forty-two

Deadly Sweet

Three Weeks Later. Los Angeles, California

L istening to the sound of our feet crunching along the pea gravel, I also listen patiently as Dad shows me the gardens outside of his property while he talks.

I relish the feel of his arm around me as we walk slowly, my brain being even slower about processing everything he's telling me about our family and its connections.

"I'm Lucien's uncle," he says, patiently.

"And I'm Lucien's cousin?

"Yes."

"And Lucien's the Don?"

"Hmhm."

I pause. "One of the five Dons in the country?"

"Yes."

"And he married his cousin to one of the five Dons, Joaquin, who is also Hendrix's best friend."

"Yes. But she's your cousin, too."

I nibble my lip. "When am I going to meet him?"

He shoots me a look and grins. "I'm not ready to share you just yet."

"Oh, that's sweet." I melt, giggling. "And who are you in all of this?"

"The underboss."

"Right under Lucien?"

"Yes."

I glance up at him sharply. "You've killed people?"

A wince crosses his face. "Yes."

"Ah." I stare ahead, keeping my arm twined around his as I glance at the beautiful foliage in the distance and try to imagine my dad killing someone. I'm a bit surprised that this doesn't bother me the way it probably should.

I guess I'm silent for too long because he gets an uncomfortable look on his face and blows out a heavy breath.

"Mel, I know it's a lot…"

"So I'm a cousin to the Donnn," I drawl, my brows furrowing as I look up at him. "That seems like it might not be a big deal, though?"

He frowns. "It's actually a very big deal. Amelia is your first cousin as well, and Lucien married her off to protect her and to ally the two families. You probably would have been treated the same had you grown up in this family."

"Sooo what you're saying is I'm a mafia princess?" I snort .

Wild.

Seeing as I'm not distancing myself from him, he gets a relieved smile on his face, his eyes turning even more warm.

"Well, only if you want to be, I suppose," Maximus chuckles, tucking me under his arm as we stop to admire a hedge of dogwood.

I laugh lightly. "I don't know what I want to be. That's the problem." I lean forward, pressing my nose to the petals and smelling. We turn and continue our journey.

He hums, keeping his eyes on our feet as we round a corner and under an archway of climbing roses, meandering through a beautiful piece of his garden where the various plants are designed in almost a maze, keeping you moving through so you can take in all its beauty.

"It's okay to not know what you want to do, Melody. Part of the joy of life is figuring it out as you go along."

I nod, wrapping myself even tighter around his arm as we journey deeper through the gardens. It's a few more minutes before he speaks, his words coming out hesitantly.

"How's your mother?"

I scrunch my nose, still feeling the sting of betrayal. But thanks to some time and distance, it's lessened. "Well… I guess she's okay."

Truth is, I've barely talked to her in the weeks since the fiasco at the Balducci wedding.

He grunts lightly. Putting a hand to his nape, he squeezes, now staring straight ahead. "Is she still talking to that William guy?"

"Ummm…" I say slowly. "From what Izzy has told me, their relationship has been something that's been driving a thorn deeper into the King Dynasty family dynamic. So it's a little touchy there, I suppose."

He looks at me. "What do you mean? "

"Her and Richard's wife, Mason's mother Maribel, are very close.

But William and Richard don't get along.

There's a very, very old family secret and some other drama that's severed their relationship," I pause.

"It's part of the reason Mason and I are out here, actually.

Mason wants a relationship with William.

Richard doesn't like it and has disowned William.

It's so complicated. We needed some distance from it all. "

"What's the other drama?"

I shrug a shoulder. "Who knows. Richard won't talk."

"Richard sounds like a hard-ass," he mutters.

"Hm, Richard's not a bad man but…" I trail off, twisting my lips as I find a way to word it. "He's got a lot of trauma behind something really awful that happened in the family, and it's caused him to be wary of men. Including the ones in his family. I feel really bad for him…"

"Sounds bad, sweetheart," he says quietly, clearing his throat.

"You know I, uh…I don't get along with one of my brothers either.

Lucien's other uncle, not his dad," he corrects on a deep, heavy sigh.

"Though we haven't disowned him, we are just merely tolerating him.

Family ties are tough, Mel. They're never perfect.

Especially in our world." His eyes find mine and he gives me a little, sad smile.

"But we're happy to have you, sweetheart. "

I smile back, feeling shy. Still not quite believing that I have a father, much less a whole family to get used to. And I'm welcomed.

"I don't need perfection," I say quietly, giving his arm a squeeze.

He nods. "Well, I'll do my damndest, honey. That I can promise you."

We walk for a few more minutes before he talks again. Over the last few weeks of getting to know him, I see that our mannerisms are very alike. The silences between us are comfortable, neither one of us feeling pressured to fill it with chatter .

"I think the pie is done. Let's head back inside?"

"Sure," he says, turning us effortlessly down another path. If I hadn't had him with me I'd be downright lost. I can barely see the top of his house through the hedges we're walking through.

"Dad, are you still in love with my mom?" I blurt out, not able to help myself.

You'd never know he was bothered by my question by looking at him. He stares ahead of us, always looking forward it seems like. He's silent, taking a second to soak in my question. And I let him.

"I am."

My heart thumps painfully at the two simple words that mean the world to me.

I tug on his arm, digging my heels into the ground and forcing us to a stop. He tilts his head to look down at me. "Well, then go after her!"

His eyes flick between mine before he looks away, and tightens his arm, making me resume walking next to him. "It's not that simple, Melody."

"But it is-"

He tuts, shaking his head. "Melody, no, sweetheart.

It's not. She has a deep mistrust of the mafia because of how she's been hunted down, and now with what happened to Isobel…

" he trails off, getting a sad look in his eyes.

"I don't want to traumatize her, sweetheart.

Maybe it's best she just pursue a relationship with William. "

I huff a breath. Knowing that if she's with William, then mom probably won't be around Maribel and Richard. Maybe even Isobel…

"It's so fucked up," I say quietly, pushing the door open when we make our way to the back of the house. The security flank the door, remaining quiet as we go through. "You love her."

"Love's never been for me, I don't think. "

I keep my comments to myself, preferring to ruminate on it for a bit before responding. We take our shoes off in the mudroom and hang up our light jackets before heading to the kitchen. Dad inhales and grins.

"It smells amazing," he compliments me with a pat on the back.

"Thanks, and it smells done."

I pull a strawberry pie out of the oven, glad to not have a million eyes on me. Dad has thankfully dismissed the household staff today, only leaving us with security, and we've spent the time bonding over cooking and baking.

He cooks; I bake.

We sit at the island, sharing a bottle of Italian wine from his vineyard, and talk about anything and everything.

After an hour I trust I can cut the pie without it falling apart, and I slide a piece onto a saucer plate for him and hand him a fork.

He takes a bite and groans, his eyes closing as he swallows.

"Wow, Mel." I grin as he takes another bite, getting a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey, this tastes a lot like the pie at Deadly Sweet."

"What's that?"

"A bakery. Pretty prolific one, too."

"A bakery?"

"Yes, I go once every other week. That's all I allow myself," he chuckles. "Gotta keep the girlish figure, you know."

I choke, laughing and holding a napkin to my mouth. "Shut up, you don't have a inch of fat anywhere, silly!"

We both laugh, and Mason comes through a door behind Dad, dragging a hand through his hair. Our eyes meet, and my laughter dies on my tongue, dissipating at the look in Mason's eyes when our gazes clash .

"Hey, you," I say softly, gesturing at the pie between dad and me. "I made a strawberry pie. You want a slice?"

"I'd love some, baby. Hey, Max," Mason claps Dad on the shoulder before rounding to the other side of the island where I sit, and I accept his kiss graciously. Not rejecting him in front of my father.

Behind closed doors is another story, however.

I would have thought the constant rejection of anything intimate between him and me would have caused him to blow up at me, but it hasn't.

He's exercised a lot of restraint these past three weeks.

"How's my nephew?" Dad asks gruffly, putting another bite in his mouth.

"He's fine. Always fine," Mason says. "I have to meet with him tomorrow night about something important, apparently." He reaches forward, grabbing a saucer and scooping out not one but two big slices of pie. My eye go wide, and he sees. "What? I need my strength."

"For what?" I giggle.

"Later." He arches a brow, and I look away sharply.

Our sex life has been a little fucked up since I found out he knew my father was alive, and it's been pretty stagnant since we've moved in with Dad temporarily while we've been house hunting these last three weeks.

"You know, Mel, I'm pretty sure I saw a help wanted sign for an additional baker when I was there last week," Dad says, raising a brow and taking a sip of water.

"What are you talking about?" Mason asks, his eyes flicking from Dad's to mine.