Page 53 of Twisted Fate

“Okay, yeah, but what’s it called on the Luciana?”

“The dining room,” he says with a small smile.

I huff a laugh.

We take an outdoor walkway along the side of the ship. It’s lined with tall windows through which I see the saloon, the dining room, a staircase, an elevator. The air is warm, and there’s a slight breeze. I pause to look at the night sky. It’s very dark, the stars very bright. There are no city lights out here to dull the view of the heavens.

Damian stands behind me, he puts both hands on my upper arms, his palms warm against my naked skin.

“The last time I was on the Luciana was with my father,” he says, and the sorrow in his voice guts me.

“Tell me about him.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then he says, “He was a good father. Loving, kind, interested in the lives of his children. He was funny, loved a good joke.”

I smile when he says that, thinking of what he and Leo just did to their sister. I guess the apples don’t fall far from the tree.

“He liked to hear all sides of an argument before he made a decision, but once his decision was made, there was no changing his mind. He spoiled us, but also taught us the value of hard work, dedication, effort. Growing up, we had few rules, but those we did have were unbreakable. He always expected our best effort. If that made us come in first, great. But if our best earned a B or saw us come in last in a race or fumble the ball, he was still proud of us, so long as he knew we did our best.”

“He sounds like a very good dad,” I say softly. “Was he a good husband?”

“He loved my mother.”

There’s an undercurrent to those words, something Damian isn’t saying.

“But…” I say.

Damian huffs a humorless laugh. “But he hurt her. Not physically. He never raised a hand to her, never raised his voice to her. But he kept a mistress.”

“Did she know?” I ask.

“She knew. We all knew. As a kid, I blamed his mistress, hated her for my mother’s pain. As an adult, I understand she suffered too. And I blame only my father. He supported her, set her up in a nice place, gave her gifts and money. But he never loved her. Never gave her any real part of himself. She was just there, a convenience, because as my father explained, it’s what men do.”

We stand under the stars, Damian’s warm hands on my skin. He pulls me against him, his chest to my back, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head, his arms wrapped around me. For a minute, I let myself pretend. Pretend that we are dating. Pretend that he cares about me. Pretend that there is a future for whatever this is between us. For a minute, I let myself recognize that I am drawn to more than just the physical, more than his looks, his body, the way he makes me feel with his hands and mouth and cock.

I am drawn to him, the whole package, and that is dangerous.

“He was a very good dad,” he says after a time. “A great dad. A great man. But everyone has layers. He was often pulled away by the demands of the business. And sometimes, even if he was there physically, his mind was a million miles away.” He pauses. “He raised Leo to take over, raised me to support my brother, to be his right hand. Raised my brothers to be part of the business.”

“That couldn’t have always been easy.”

He laughs. “Sometimes, it pissed me the hell off. I couldn’t fucking wait to get away, to go to college, to leave Vegas. Then, after four years away, newly minted business degree in hand, I couldn’t wait to come home. I had all these ideas for the business, all these changes I wanted to implement.”

“And your father didn’t agree?”

“He didn’t disagree. He just liked to hear all sides of the argument before he acted.” He huffs a low laugh. “I didn’t always come up on the winning side.”

“Did you resent that?”

“Sometimes.”

“But you loved him anyway.”

“We had a complicated relationship.

“Yeah, I get that. But you loved him.”

“I would have died for him. The night he was shot, I threw myself on him. It was instinct.” He pauses. “But I wasn’t fast enough.”

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