17. Axel
Scarlett was angry with me.
I could tell because she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. When she got to our bedroom, she dropped her clothes and immediately washed her face, as if removing her makeup would somehow deter my desire.
It was two in the morning, and our grand opening had been a success. But now, there was a sourness between us that turned the air rancid. I hadn’t mentioned her father for weeks on purpose because I wanted to savor this honeymoon phase, but I’d known it would only last so long before reality hit us in the face again.
She got into bed and turned on her side, dismissing me.
I did my nighttime routine then got into bed beside her. I lay there and stared at the dark ceiling. I could tell she was wide awake because of the way she breathed. She wasn’t even tired, based on how labored her breaths sounded. “Baby.”
She lay still and silent.
“The last thing I want is for this to come between us. I’m sure you agree.”
She lay there.
“Baby, come on.”
She continued to ignore me.
“Don’t make me come over there.”
She pulled the sheet farther up her shoulder.
I slid across the bed and came up behind her, my big body pressed up against her littler one. My arm circled over her tummy, and I pulled her close, letting her boil in my heat, letting her feel my hard muscles. I took a breath and let her feel my chest rise and move her with it. “I’m sorry that you’re upset. But don’t be upset with me.”
After a long stretch of silence, she finally caved. “I know you have good intentions.”
“I always have good intentions with you.”
We sat together at the dining table, having dinner with the laptop open, looking over the numbers for the first weekend at the restaurant.
She had been so good at bookkeeping for her father that managing the expenses of a restaurant was a walk in the park for her. She had everything organized into Excel spreadsheets and even had analysis reports. She did them on a daily basis, and I thought that was overkill.
I pulled the laptop toward me and looked through it. “It’s hard to get the full financial picture in just a weekend, but it looks like things are good.”
“Things will slow down after the grand opening.”
“Maybe they won’t.”
“That’s just how it is.”
“You’re awfully pessimistic, even after a grand-slam opening.”
“I’m just trying to be realistic.” She pulled the computer back and closed the lid.
Aldo knocked on my bedroom door. We’d just received our dinner not too long ago, so the plates were nowhere near ready to be collected. He’d hardly given us half an hour. He poked his head inside. “Your father is here to see you.”
I turned to Scarlett, knowing this would drain the blood out of her face. She’d just gotten back to being in a good mood, but now that would be shattered into hundreds of pieces.
“I don’t want to see him,” she said quietly, looking down at her plate.
“I’m sorry, I was unclear.” Aldo looked at me. “I’m referring to your father, sir.”
All of Scarlett’s anger dissolved. Her gaze immediately lifted to me, her eyes wide in surprise.
I continued to stare at Aldo, and I felt my heart stop. Seconds passed, and then I looked at Scarlett, but it was one of the few times when I didn’t actually see her face. It was just a haze. “Did he say what he wants?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but I would never forget his face.”
Adrenaline. Dread. Terror. I felt no excitement or joy. I was actually a little scared. Not scared that he would hurt me physically, but that he would somehow hurt me more emotionally…if that was even possible at this point. “I’ll be right there.”
When I entered the parlor, I found my father standing in front of the fire, one hand in his pocket, his eyes on the flames inside the hearth like he was mesmerized by their movements. He was still, his back slightly bent because his posture had stooped in recent years. His old watch was still on his right wrist.
I stood there and took him in, my mind unable to believe the truth that my eyes screamed. He was really there, in the flesh, and he didn’t seem to have paperwork for me to sign or a lawyer to bear witness.
If he’d come all the way here and stepped into my house, he must have something important to say. “Hey, Dad.”
The sound of my voice made him whip his head around from the fireplace and look at me. His blue eyes widened in surprise at my appearance, but then they slowly turned guarded with discomfort, like being in the room with me was inherently awkward.
I moved to the armchair and took a seat, while he continued to stand. My elbow propped on the armrest, and my fingertips rested against my lips. My eyes took in the sight of him by the fireplace, but it was still hard to grapple with reality. It was really him, not a ghost. “Take a seat.”
He looked at the armchair across from me and, after a moment of silent deliberation, sat down. He looked at me across the table, eyes on mine for the first time. Normally, he avoided my stare, focused on paperwork in front of him or hiding behind sunglasses. But now, he actually looked at me.
I was desperate for a cigar, something to coat my tongue to make this tension more tolerable, but I would never light up in front of my father, someone who didn’t smoke. A decanter of scotch was sitting there, but I didn’t pour a glass or offer him one.
The silence continued, the crackling from the fireplace the only sound in the quiet room.
He was the one who’d come to me, so I decided to let him speak first—in case I shoved my foot in my mouth.
He gave a sigh, the same sigh I remembered from my childhood, and brought his hands together in his lap. “The man who shot me in the arm…he came by the house. Told your mother and me that he’d threatened to kill us both if you didn’t stay away from his daughter…the woman you are now married to. You ended things with her to keep us alive, even though you were in love with her. We disowned you…but you continued to protect us.”
I felt my breath give me away. I sucked in a deep breath I didn’t know I needed until it happened.
“He took responsibility for everything and asked that we not blame you for his actions. His daughter no longer speaks to him because of the things he’s done…and he doesn’t want that to happen to us.”
I had no idea what Dante could have possibly said to make my father listen, not after shooting him in the arm, but he somehow pulled a rabbit out of a hat like the best showman.
“He also said you’re innocent of the crimes you were accused of…and showed us proof.”
“What proof?” I blurted.
“Surveillance footage of her infidelity before the marriage ended, bank statements detailing her erratic spending, emails to your lawyer about getting the prenup changed and forging your signature. He pieced everything together and wove a story, that my son gave his heart to the wrong woman and she burned him to the ground. What’s more…he said you left your previous career to settle down.”
All I could do was sit there with a hard stare, unable to believe that my father had just said all that. It’d been a long time since we’d had a conversation like this—years ago, before I went to prison. After I was incarcerated, we didn’t speak for two years because they never came to visit.
My father stared at the coffee table for a while. “I want to apologize…but I’m not sure it’ll do much good.”
“I don’t want an apology.”
He looked up to meet my stare, guarded once more.
“I just want my dad.” I felt no resentment toward him or Mom. They’d turned their backs on me when they should have been by my side through the entire ordeal, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about all the horrible things they’d said to me. My father was there, sitting across from me, and not looking at me with shame. I was grateful that this reunion had happened at all, that my dad hadn’t collapsed from a heart attack and I’d had to live with that regret. He was there with me. We had a second chance.
My dad closed his eyes briefly, like that somehow made him feel worse. “Alexander…” He didn’t say anything else, as if saying more than just my name would be too much.
I left my chair and came around the coffee table. His eyes were still downcast as I reached my hand out for him to grab. “Get your ass up and hug me, old man.”
A slight smirk spread over his mouth before he looked up at me. “How can you just let this go? After everything that’s happened. After everything we said and did. How can it be this easy?”
I kept my hand there. “I held a grudge against someone I loved before, and I won’t make that mistake again.”
His stare washed over my face before he took my hand and let me pull him up. He was a few inches shorter than me, life compressing his spine, but his features still reminded me of my own. He grabbed me by the shoulder and looked me over, just the way he used to when I’d finished a game or completed a performance with the orchestra. Pride swept through him before he pulled me in for an embrace, a squeeze he hadn’t given me in so long I’d forgotten how it felt to be hugged by my own father.
Peace like I’d never known swept through me. The stress of the estrangement, of their disappointment, all the rage I’d felt toward the woman who’d locked me up and thrown away the key…it all disappeared.
“I love you, son.”
My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes closed. He used to say it every time we got off the phone, said it so often that it sounded automatic. But once I was put on trial, he’d never said it again—not in person, not over the phone. He said it now, and it sounded just the way it used to. “I love you, Dad.”
When I walked in the bedroom door, Scarlett was standing there like she’d been pacing since I left. The remains of our dinner were untouched, and so was the wine. She whipped toward me, her eyes scanning my expression for news.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He apologized. I forgave him.”
“Really? What—what brought this on? This is so random…just came out of nowhere. No one is sick, right?”
“No one is sick,” I said quickly. “But it didn’t come out of nowhere.”
“Then where did it come from?” she asked quietly.
It was the last answer I’d ever expected to give. “Your father.”
“My—my father?” She stepped back as if the words made her stumble. “What does he have to do with this?”
I explained everything her father had done, how he’d told my father I’d lost my girl to protect him, that I was truly innocent in that legal debacle. “He must have used a lot of resources to pull together all the information, called in some favors to get those phone records and surveillance footage. He basically built my case better than my own lawyers did.”
She was stunned into silence.
“And your father told my dad that he knows what it’s like to be estranged from your child…and he didn’t want that for us.”
Her arms tightened over her chest, and she looked determined to shut out the information, to not feel anything for her father’s actions. She looked elsewhere, breathing harder than normal, trying to sort it out in her pretty little head.
“He righted his wrongs,” I said. “That’s what he did.”
Her eyes found mine. “I’m happy for you. There are no words to describe just how happy I am that this has happened for you.”
“I know.”
She moved into my chest and squeezed me.
My chin dropped onto her head, and I squeezed her back tightly, my life complete for the first time.
She stayed there for a long while, letting me hold her as she held me.
I could do this forever, live in the moment with her, a very good moment. “We’re going to dinner with them tomorrow.”
“We?” she asked as she pulled away to see my face.
“Damn right, we,” I said. “I want them to meet my wife.”
“I just thought you’d want time with them alone first.”
“You’re my family. Where I go, you go.”
Her eyes melted like hot butter.
“And you know where we’re going?” I grinned, knowing she would guess it.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine as the smile moved into her features. “Seriously?”
“It’s my favorite place. And I want my parents to see it.”
“I don’t want to come across like I’m showing off…”
“I know what my parents like, and they’ll love your food,” I said. “And they’ll love you.”
“I don’t know… I was pretty rude to them.”
“You weren’t rude. You stood up for me. Big difference.”
“I hope they’ll see it that way,” she said. “First impressions are lasting impressions.”
I wasn’t the least bit worried about it. Scarlett had a smile that lit up the room, showed affection in just her words, without needing touch. She was endearing and funny. She was a hot piece of ass with the full package. “I’m not worried about it. And if it makes you feel better, they could dislike you all they want, and it’s not going to change anything.”
I could tell that meant a lot to her by the way her eyes softened, the way she looked up at me like I was the best gift that had ever appeared under her Christmas tree. Her hand went to my arm, and she touched me, gently felt the muscles under my skin. “I love you.”
I would never grow tired of hearing that. “I know.” I pulled her in close and pressed a kiss to her lips, but the second I felt her mouth, all that affection transformed into something more. A spark lit the match, and then the flames erupted around us on all sides. It happened anytime I touched her, but it really exploded now.
My hand slid into her hair, and I kissed her as I backed her up into the couch. I slid the other underneath her top and grabbed her tit, squeezing it hard underneath her bra and making her wince slightly. She was taller than most women, which I loved, but she was still so petite, so small in my big grasp.
Her hands dove underneath my shirt, and her nails started to dig their grooves into my flesh, her head tilted back to accept my anxious kiss. Our mouths danced in fire, and once the steam started to billow, she yanked my shirt over my head. A satisfied moan left her lips when she saw my bare chest, her favorite part of my physique besides my arms…and my dick.
Our embrace became too intimate for the couch, so I lifted her into my arms and carried her like she weighed nothing, because in comparison to the tractor tires I pushed around in my gym, she really did weigh nothing.
I dropped her on the bed and yanked off my jeans and shoes, so anxious for her, it was like I’d never fucked her before. In these heated moments, it always felt that way, our hundredth time feeling like our first time.
Too anxious to wait for me to undress her, she kicked away her bottoms and left her top in place.
My knees hit the mattress, and I moved on top of her, yanking her shirt and bra up to expose her tits. With her soft thighs on either side of my hips, she took my length, took it with a loud groan like she’d somehow forgotten what my dick could do.
Fully sheathed inside my wife, I held myself as I looked at her, her lips hungry for my kiss, desperate for it. Ever since the first moment I saw her, I wanted her. I wanted her in every dirty way I could imagine. Lots of nasty shit had crossed my mind when I saw her sitting there across the dining room from me, her legs crossed in her flirty dress in the spring heat. While that desire still burned white-hot, it had grown into something more, something deeper. It made me slow down, made me rock into her at a steady pace rather than a sprint, made me kiss her throughout, made me whisper my love against her ear. It made me want to love rather than fuck—because I was madly in love with her.