Page 165 of Whisper

“Let’s get something straight,” he intoned, eyes piercing. “I did not accuse you. It was Niles. And he got punched in the face and fired for it.”

I felt my mouth drop. “You fired your lawyer.”

“My father fired him.”

My mouth hung slack once more. Impossible. “W-what?”

He seemed uninterested in that particular conversation because he plowed on. “I never for one millisecond even entertained the idea that this was you. I know it wasn’t.”

I wet my lips to argue.

He made a gruff sound, cutting me off. “Yes, I was caught off guard by your paternity, by all the things you confessed. And I was angry you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“It has nothing to do with trust,” I retorted, something in me shriveling.

“I know that now.”

The gentle tone brought my head up. “You do?”

“Your silence is just another way of protecting yourself.”

I nodded.

“So, no, I don’t give a damn who donated DNA to make you. Frankly, I’m just fucking glad you’re here.”

Oh. No one had ever said that before. I’m glad you’re here. As if my presence were a blessing and not a curse. I fell a little harder for him just then, and it scared the shit out of me.

“Tell that to your father.” Maybe my bravado was fake, but that didn’t stop me from trying valiantly to protect my heart.

“I did.”

My heart skipped. Maybe I hallucinated. “What?”

“I told him I love you. I told him you didn’t do this and that if he hurt you, I would never forgive him.”

He was serious. His tone and gaze were sincere. Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes, creating a massive amount of pressure in my head. My nose burned, my throat turned dry, and my mind… it sort of went hollow, too overloaded to process anything at all. So I just sat there, overcome physically, and shut down mentally.

I stared across the room, eyes open but unseeing, lost in a void of nothing. It was sort of like having a massive to-do list and then doing nothing at all because it was just too much.

Warm, confident hands settled me into an equally warm lap. Soft fabric draped around my back, wrapping gently beneath my chin. Reassuring fingers carded through my hair, and then his lips touched mine.

I blinked, focused on the face touching mine, falling into the bottomless patience that Arsen seemed to have for me. He kissed me again. Then again.

On the fourth kiss, my lips responded.

“Good boy,” he whispered into my mouth, and I swallowed the praise, finding that it jumpstarted my brain.

I blinked, realizing I was straddling his lap with the pink blanket around me.

“Did he punish you?” I whispered, pain squeezing my heart.

His forehead wrinkled. “Punish me?”

I swallowed, hand reaching out of the soft cocoon he’d tucked me in to fidget with the barbel in his nipple.

“Your father,” I rasped. “Did he punish you for loving me?”

Arsen’s eyes filled with sadness, and it enhanced mine tenfold.

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