Page 12 of Big Bold Gambler

“Who better to date your daughter than me?” I ask, knowing that I might be pushing my luck here. Still, I think it needs to be said. “You know that I can protect her and provide for her. What happens if you chase me off and she gets with some punk thatcan’t pay all her bills? You really want her to have to leave behind the way of life she’s accustomed to because of your need to push away the first man she’s shown interest in?”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he says, his face going red. “Even if she finds someone else, I’ll always make sure she has enough. You know that. Bringing that up is way out of line.”

“You being this controlling is way out of line,” I counter. “You can’t treat her like a child forever and expect her to not to resent you for it. You got to let her go, man.”

“I will,” he replies, the muscles in his arms flexing with restraint.

“But not if I’m involved?” I observe, resisting the urge to bare my teeth.

Patrick’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. Of course this is going to be the hill he chooses to die on. It seems like a stupid idea on his part, though. If he decides to go on his normal warpath and completely cut me off, he’ll have to find a new place to wash his money.

He seems to realize this at the same time that I do. He stays quiet, glaring at me from where he’s still standing. His silence is equally infuriating and satisfying.

“You know that I’d never hurt her,” I say, softening my tone. “I care about her too much for that.”

“That’s good,” Patrick says, that eerie calm back in his face and voice. “But you won’t get the chance to.”

“Pardon me?”

“I hope you both said your goodbyes the last time you saw each other,” he continues cryptically. “Because you’re never going to see her again. I’ve worked her whole life to keep her away from this life. You are more involved than I am. More enemies, more ties. I refuse to let you unravel the work I put in to keep her safe because you want to go sniffing between her legs.”

Then, before I can ask him for any sort of clarification, he turns around and leaves. I don’t need any explanation, though. I already know what he means. He has enough money put back that he can make himself and Jeannie disappear on a moment's notice. That has to be what he intends to do.

I groan, turning back to my desk and putting my head in my hands. If I want to keep her in my life, I’m going to have to think fast. The first thing I need to do is tell her that I saw her dad and that he knows what we’ve been up to. So, I pull out my phone and warn her, hoping that the two of us will be able to work out our next steps together.

Chapter Seven

Jeannie

I drag my brush over the canvas, filling in the last shadows across Maxwell’s face. It’s not perfect yet—none of my work ever feels quite finished—but this one has to be just right. The sunlight in my studio filters through the blinds, casting a pale glow that helps me capture the light in the painting. In it, Maxwell’s lying in bed, his eyes shut, looking like he does when I wake up next to him. There’s something about his face, the way his wavy blonde hair catches the morning light, that makes me feel like I’m safe and warm. Like I’m right where I belong.

I lean back, studying the painting. It’s the first time I’ve ever painted someone I actually know, and I swear, it’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. Tilting my head, I consider whether to add more highlights to his hair or leave it the way it is. It’s my phone buzzing that finally breaks me out of my trance. I set my brush down, wiping my hands on my old jeans before reaching over to check it, hoping it’s a message from Dad. He was supposed to be home hours ago.

Nothing from him. I bite my lip, feeling that familiar knot of worry in my stomach. Dad’s almost never late without calling me, especially after being gone for so long. Just as I’m about totry calling him again, my phone buzzes again. This time I realize who was texting me in the first place.

Two messages from Maxwell.

Maxwell:Your dad stopped by. He knows. I think he’s going to try to disappear with you.

Maxwell:Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’m coming now.

I reread the message, my heart jumping up into my throat. Dad knows? About me and Maxwell? Does that mean he knowseverything?

I get up, pacing my studio as I try to think. Maybe Dad just needs time to cool off. He’s overprotective, sure, and sometimes way too overbearing, but he’s still my dad. I love him. And no matter how much he worries, he’s always been reasonable before. Picking me up and trying to disappear with me is definitely not reasonable. Maybe we can talk this out, and he’ll understand that I’m not a kid anymore.

Before I can call him, a loud bang echoes from downstairs, like someone’s kicked open the door.

My breath catches, and I freeze, staring at the door of my studio.Fuck, he sounds mad,I think to myself. My hands start to shake as I clutch my phone, every instinct screaming at me to stay hidden. But he’s my dad, and even if he’s mad, I can talk to him, calm him down. I have to try, right?

Taking a shaky breath, I step out of my studio and quietly make my way down the stairs, staying close to the wall. Halfway down, I see a shadow moving in the living room. I take a quiet, deep breath, preparing to step forward and confront the situation head on. But then the figure shifts and I realize that it’s not my dad’s tall, broad-shouldered frame.

It’s a man I don’t know, someone with dark hair and a scar running over his left eye. My heart races as I duck behind the corner, barely peeking out to keep an eye on him. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, and everything about him sets me on edge.

Hands shaking, I type out a message to Maxwell as quietly as I can:

Someone broke in. Man with a scar. Dark hair.

I hit send, praying he’ll get here soon.

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