My Father's Warning

Chapter Eight

For several seconds, nobody moved.

My father's hand was still wrapped around mine.

His eyes remained fixed on Damien.

There was something in his expression I'd never seen before.

Fear.

Not the ordinary kind.

Not the fear of a stranger or a doctor delivering bad news.

Recognition.

My father knew him.

I looked between them.

"Dad?"

He swallowed.

"Get him out."

My heart began pounding.

"Who is he?"

My father didn't answer.

He tried to push himself higher against the pillows, but his body was too weak. The machines beside his bed immediately reacted to the movement.

"Easy," I whispered.

I adjusted his pillow.

"Don't try to move."

His eyes never left Damien.

"Please."

The word was barely audible.

"Don't marry him."

I looked at Damien.

He hadn't moved from the doorway.

His expression was unreadable.

But his hands were clenched at his sides.

"Damien?"

He finally looked at me.

"Stay with your father."

"What does he know about you?"

"Ask him."

My eyes returned to my father.

"Dad, how do you know Damien?"

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer.

Then he whispered, "I worked for his father."

The room seemed to tilt.

"What?"

My father opened his eyes again.

"Years ago."

"What kind of work?"

Silence.

"Dad."

His breathing became uneven.

"I didn't know what they were doing at first."

I stared at him.

"Doing what?"

Damien finally spoke.

"That's enough."

My father flinched.

I turned toward him.

"Don't tell me it's enough."

His eyes hardened.

"You don't understand what you're asking."

"Then explain it to me."

"Lena."

"No."

I stood.

"You know this man."

My voice trembled.

"You knew his father."

My father looked toward Damien.

"His father was worse."

Damien's jaw tightened.

I saw it.

A flash of anger.

Then it disappeared.

My father continued.

"I thought I could leave."

"You left?"

"Eventually."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted you away from them."

I stared at him.

"Then why didn't you tell me who they were?"

"Because knowing their name would have put you in danger."

My heart hammered.

"Apparently I'm already in danger."

My father closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

The apology broke something inside me.

I sat beside him again.

"Tell me everything."

He shook his head.

"Not here."

"Why?"

He looked toward the door.

"Because there are people listening."

My blood ran cold.

I looked at Damien.

He was already looking toward the hallway.

He walked outside.

A moment later, I heard his voice.

"Everyone leaves this floor."

There was a pause.

Then footsteps began moving away.

My father stared at the doorway.

"Even now."

"What?"

"He controls everything."

I frowned.

"How?"

"He always has."

I looked at my father.

"Tell me."

He sighed.

"When I was younger, I worked for the De Luca family."

"What did you do?"

"Accounting."

I blinked.

"Accounting?"

He nodded.

"I handled financial records."

"And?"

"Some of the numbers didn't make sense."

My stomach tightened.

"What numbers?"

"Payments. Transfers. Companies that didn't officially exist."

"Money laundering?"

He looked away.

"More than that."

"What?"

He hesitated.

Then whispered:

"Names."

I frowned.

"Names?"

"People who owed them money."

I suddenly understood.

The man Damien had killed.

My stomach turned.

"That's what he does."

My father looked at me.

"Damien collects debts."

I remembered the warehouse.

The pleading.

The gun.

My father continued.

"But his father wasn't interested only in money."

"Then what?"

"Control."

A chill moved down my spine.

"He wanted people dependent on him."

"Why?"

"Because people who need you can't betray you."

I looked toward the doorway.

Damien stood there.

He had heard everything.

My father's eyes met his.

"You haven't changed."

Damien's expression was cold.

"No."

"That's what scares me."

Damien walked into the room.

My father watched him carefully.

"How much does she know?"

Damien looked at me.

"Enough."

My father shook his head.

"Not enough."

Damien stopped beside the bed.

"You survived."

"Because I got away."

"You were allowed to."

My father's face went pale.

I looked at Damien.

"What does that mean?"

Damien didn't answer.

My father did.

"His father let me leave."

"Why?"

"Because I had nothing worth taking."

He looked at me.

"Until you."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

My father's eyes filled with tears.

"He knew about you."

I stared at him.

"Who?"

"Damien's father."

The room seemed to shrink.

"When I left, he told me that one day he'd come for what I loved."

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

"And you thought that meant me?"

My father nodded.

"That's why I kept you away from them."

I looked at Damien.

"Did your father know about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

His eyes met mine.

"Yes."

The word was quiet.

My chest tightened.

"Since when?"

"Before the night at the warehouse."

I stepped back.

"You knew who I was?"

"Yes."

"You knew my father?"

"Yes."

"And you still made me marry you?"

His face hardened.

"I haven't married you."

"You know what I mean."

He didn't answer.

I laughed bitterly.

"Of course."

I looked at my father.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was afraid."

"Of him?"

My father looked at Damien.

"Of what would happen if you knew."

Damien's voice was low.

"Your father isn't the only one who has something to fear."

My father looked away.

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Damien turned toward the window.

"It means your father's past isn't finished."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"He didn't simply leave my father's organization."

My father closed his eyes.

"Dad?"

Damien continued.

"He took something."

My father's eyes snapped open.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I had no choice."

"You always have a choice."

"You weren't there."

"I know exactly what happened."

"What did he take?" I demanded.

Neither answered.

I stepped between them.

"What did he take?"

My father's lips trembled.

"A ledger."

I frowned.

"What kind of ledger?"

"A record of every payment."

My blood ran cold.

"Every payment to whom?"

My father looked at Damien.

"Every payment made by the organization."

Silence.

"Names," I whispered.

My father nodded.

"Politicians. Judges. Police officers. Businessmen."

Damien's expression didn't change.

"And now someone wants it."

My father looked at him.

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

My father's gaze dropped.

"I don't know."

Damien stepped closer.

"You know."

"I destroyed it."

"No."

"I did."

"You're lying."

My father's breathing became faster.

Damien's voice remained frighteningly calm.

"You didn't destroy it."

My father looked at me.

And I saw something in his eyes.

Regret.

"Where is it?" Damien asked again.

My father didn't answer.

I looked between them.

Then I understood.

Whatever my father had taken years ago was the reason Damien was here.

The reason his family had been watching us.

The reason my father had been terrified.

And perhaps the reason Damien had married me.

I looked at him.

"Was that why you chose me?"

His eyes met mine.

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because you were already in danger."

"That's not an answer."

"It is the only one you're getting."

I shook my head.

"You expect me to trust you after this?"

"No."

"Then what do you expect?"

"That you survive."

I laughed.

"By marrying you?"

"Yes."

"Because your enemies will think I'm protected."

"Yes."

"And because I'm connected to your father through mine."

His eyes darkened.

"Yes."

I stepped closer.

"So I'm not just a witness."

"No."

"What am I?"

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.

"You're leverage."

I froze.

My father's face crumpled.

"Lena..."

Damien looked at him.

"That's why they haven't killed her."

I couldn't breathe.

"They're waiting."

"For what?"

"For someone to make a mistake."

I backed away.

"What mistake?"

Damien's expression hardened.

"Yours."

My father grabbed my hand.

"Don't marry him."

I looked at him.

Then at Damien.

The man I had agreed to marry had just admitted that my life was part of a dangerous game.

But there was something else in his eyes.

Something I couldn't explain.

He wasn't looking at me like a piece on a chessboard.

He was looking at me like someone he intended to protect at any cost.

And somehow, that frightened me even more.

Because I was beginning to realize that Damien De Luca wasn't the only person who wanted something from me.

Someone else was waiting.

Someone who knew about my father.

Someone who knew about the ledger.

Someone who had already been watching me.

And if Damien was right, they weren't going to wait much longer.

My phone vibrated.

I looked down.

Unknown number.

One photograph.

My father's hospital room.

Taken from the hallway.

Taken only minutes ago.

Underneath it were six words:

You should have listened to your father.

I looked up.

Damien was already reaching for his gun.