Chapter 9
Three years ago
Daniela curled her body against Connor’s, savoring the sensation of being skin to skin. She’d never felt as safe as she did with him, and that alone terrified her. And thrilled her.
It was too many emotions really.
“You don’t have to meet my family,” she grumbled against his chest.
“I know I don’t have to. But it sounds like it’s going to happen.” His tone was dry. “I’m not worried.”
She looked up at him and her breath caught in her throat as his gaze snared her. A regular occurrence the last couple months. “Well, you should be. I told you they’re all dangerous and my father hates me.”
He squeezed her closer and didn’t try to wave away her words, tell her she was wrong.
After one too many shots of Jager in college—seriously, what had she been thinking—Daniela had told her roommate the same thing.
It had been her birthday weekend and she’d felt sorry for herself when no one from back home had called her.
She hadn’t actually expected it, but still, things like that had stung back then. Her roommate, a sweet corn-fed girl from the Midwest, hadn’t been able to comprehend parents hating their children, had been sheltered in a way Daniela had almost been jealous of.
Almost.
Julian had actually sent her a card and a large check, which had been nice, but a phone call would have been nicer.
“If you want to blow it off, that’s fine, but don’t do it because of me. Fuck your father.”
She smiled against his chest, then traced her finger over his defined pecs.
She loved tracing her fingers over his body.
Anywhere and everywhere he’d let her touch.
“I only have a couple photographs of my mom,” she whispered even though it was just the two of them.
“I took them from some photo albums I found before someone hid them. Probably my father.” She’d assumed, but hadn’t known for sure.
One day they’d been in the study, the next, all traces of her albums had been gone.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, hugging her closer.
There had to be more pictures of her and her mom but she’d never been able to find them. And the one time she’d asked her dad about them, he’d slapped her.
She threw a leg over Connor. “What about you?”
“I was fourteen when my mom was…murdered.” The word seemed to stick in his throat.
She hadn’t realized he’d been that young, but knew his mom had been killed. He hadn’t offered many details, something she understood on a personal level. It was hard to talk about. “You don’t have to talk about it,” she murmured, stroking over his chest.
“It’s okay. Still feels weird to say. Everything about it is surreal, even today. I have a lot of pictures though.” His tone was somber. It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but he stopped.
She wanted to ask questions, but held back.
They were way too new in their relationship, hadn’t really defined what they were, even if he was meeting her family later.
Her brother had been good to his word and managed to hold off their father for a couple months, but she’d been with Connor long enough that her father wanted to meet him.
She had no doubt that her father had already had someone dig into him, something she’d made sure Connor was aware of.
He was adamant that he wasn’t concerned.
Deep down she knew he was into shady things and she wasn’t sure what it said about her, but she didn’t care. She’d tried to follow the rules her entire life, mostly because she didn’t want to be anything like her family. But she wanted Connor, everything else be damned.
If the universe wanted to punish her…well, she already felt like it was.
“Maybe we can find some pictures of your mom through her old high school or something.”
She smiled against his chest when she realized he hadn’t dropped this thread. “Yeah, maybe.” She’d actually tried to figure out who her mom’s friends had been, but there hadn’t been much of a trail to follow.
There hadn’t been social media back then and the pictures she’d found in a couple of her mom’s yearbooks had been relatively generic.
She had found a few pictures of her with friends and copied them.
Her mom had been so young and happy, and it had made Daniela happy to know her mom had really lived and been loved at some point.
Everything she knew about her was through the lens of her asshole father. She had a few hazy memories but she wasn’t sure if they were even real or something a brokenhearted girl created in her mind to fill a gap.
Ugh, she shook that off as Connor rubbed his hand down her spine in a gentle rhythm. She didn’t want to think about the past or her family or anything. Not when she was with Connor.
With him, she wanted to be present. Who knew how long she’d get to keep him before her family inevitably ruined things.
She was pretty sure he’d bail once he met them—it had happened before—so she had to enjoy the time she had left.
She nipped his chest, felt his gentle rumble of a laugh before she heard it. “We have time before dinner,” she whispered.
And found herself promptly pinned beneath him. If this was their last time together, she was going to make the most of it.