Page 12 of The Devil's Daughter

“I won’t lie, the wealth is enticing. My family has never exactly been well-off. But I’m not that shallow, I hope you know.”

“No, I do,” he says. “People with your level of intelligence and work ethic tend to be more esoteric about the things they value in life. But the thing is, I don’t knowyouany more than you know me, so I can only guess what drives you. I’d assume you wanted to please your father, if I didn’t know you were oblivious to who that was until recently.”

The observation makes my stomach twist. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what to think about being the daughter of a man like Arturo Flores. I’m not sure it’s properly sunk in yet. So I’d rather focus on you, if it’s all the same.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” he says with a smirk. “Trust me, my daddy issues probably put yours to shame, so nothing you could say would surprise me.”

“See, now that’s a juicy detail, despite the fact you didn’t actually tell me anything. Though I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me.”

He gives a mirthless chuckle. “I suppose not. Tell you what, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you twenty minutes after we get you settled. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer honestly. But first, on with the tour.”

He tilts his chin down the corridor. “This level houses the guest quarters and my stateroom. There are two staterooms, actually, so you’ll get one. The twins can pick from the other guest rooms, which are almost as nice. Staff quarters are just below. Dining room and galley are just above us on the forward deck. There’s a whirlpool one level above that, and a pool that way.” He points back past the elevator. “And if you need to blow off steam, the staff deck has a small gym. This deck is completely private. The only personnel allowed here are housekeeping, who will only come when requested. You can’t even see the pool from any of the other decks.”

He pushes open a door and steps through into a room more spacious and well-decorated than the bedroom I’ve been using in his penthouse. Slanted windows curve halfway around, facing the forward deck. The view is filled with the deep violet of twilight over the ocean, and the center of the room is taken up by a king-sized bed covered in white linens trimmed with blue and gold. The walls are textured paper that matches the linens, and the floors are covered in thick, pale carpet.

But the room itself isn’t the most intriguing thing. I head straight for the door on the starboard side that leads out onto a private deck and walk around to the front, then lean against the rail, tilting my head up to the sky just to feel the wind on my face.

I’m still absorbing the crazy detour my life has taken, struggling to acclimate to the changes that keep coming, one after the other like a row of dominoes toppling. For some reason, being here is the first moment in months I’ve felt like I could breathe enough to make sense of things.

“Everything okay?” Drake asks. He sidles up beside me, and I open my eyes and turn to face him.

“Is it going to sound nuts if I tell you I feel freer here right now than I’ve felt in weeks?”

“Not at all. This boat holds some of my fondest memories. Some of my freest. It’s like being here lets me shed an uncomfortable skin, become someone new, even if it’s temporary.”

A lump forms in my throat at the suggestion that it’s temporary.

“Elle? What’s wrong?” Drake says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “What happened to enjoying the freedom? You look like you just got the rug pulled from under you. Was it something I said?”

Letting out a shaky breath, I blink back unwanted tears. “Sort of. I don’t want to go back. I know we only just got here, but I didn’t realize how much of an escape I needed until we landed. Ever since I found out Arturo’s my father, it’s like the hits keep coming to the point where I’m not sure I’m equipped to fend them off. Actually, I think it started before that—when J.J. was killed.”

His brows twitch in confusion, and I have to clarify. “That was Mason’s name before. Julian, Jr. He was named after our dad, and evidently had a major complex about not following in our old man’s footsteps, so he changed his name for good once he came home.”

“Right. He’s the Lazarus. That’s not a surprising reaction, all things considered. I understand the need to distance oneself from a toxic parent.”

“That’s how it was for Mason, but for me, changing my name doesn’t feel like enough. Dad was scary, but I still wanted to please him. Though now that I know he wasn’t even my biological father, I’m not sure why I still worry about whathewould think about the things I do. Would this internship have finally made him notice me?

“And what about Arturo? He hasn’t said more than a few words to me since Sam and Toni came home. And even then, it was just an apology. Does he even care that I’m his daughter? What does that even mean to him? Am I just another valuable possession he needs to pay good money to keep safe? Does he even care that I have feelings? Fuck, I don’t even know what it should mean tomethat I’m his and not Julian’s.”

I suddenly feel ashamed of blurting out all these thoughts, but he absorbs them in silence, watching me with his hands resting on the rail.

I close my eyes again and take a long, deep breath of salty night air to try to calm down. “Fuck, so much for feeling free.”

Drake doesn’t look the least bit fazed, though, and I’m eternally grateful that he seems to understand. He gives me a nudge of solidarity with his shoulder. “I wish I could answer those questions for you. One thing I know about Arturo is that hedoesgenuinely care about his family. He would have preferred it if you went to live with him, but he knew how much school mattered to you. Your brother Maddox lives with him, right?”

“Yeah, Maddy said he intervened when Arturo was pushing for me to move back to LA. I could’ve transferred to UCLA easily too. But Sam and I left LA for a reason. We needed to get away from our dad, but stay close enough to be there if Mom needed us. There was no way Sam would leave San Diego, and I didn’t want to move away if he wasn’t moving too.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed in San Diego. But Flores knew even before this threat that you cared about school, otherwise I doubt he’d have approached me about your internship last year. My point is that the man isn’t oblivious to you, or what matters to you. Maybe he’s just trying to give you space until you’re ready to come to him, to accept him.”

I heave a breath and meet Drake’s gaze. “That’s a nice thought, but why is he waiting? He’s known all along that he’s my father. He’s hadeveryopportunity to claim me as his, to take me in, take me away from that awful man who raised me…”

The rage and hurt that well up surprise me with their volatility, but I can’t stop the tears now. I smack the rail in frustration, then again when the sting provides me some small release.

Drake grabs my hands before I can hit the rail a third time and pulls me into his arms. “Shh, you’ll hurt yourself. Come here.”

He tightens his arms around me, and I’m mortified to find myself sobbing into his chest while he gently strokes my back. Eventually his warm hold and the spicy scent of his aftershave calm me down, but I still cling to him, too starved for affection to let go. His arms are strong, his body solid and substantial. It’s like a hug from Sam, only somehow infinitely better, because I didn’t realize until now how much I craved Drake’s touch. But it’s something I shouldn’t want, so I need to be satisfied with the gesture and move on.

I sniff and pull away, thanking him without looking when he hands me a handkerchief from one of his pockets.

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