Page 12 of The Hermit

I shake my head hard while I direct all my anger and hurt at our father. “We had a deal! I married Braden so Ciara could marry for love.”

“Things have changed,” Dad grumbles, his eyes narrowing on me and giving me a silent command to calm down and keep quiet. “Besides, it will mostly be a marriage in name. Ciara will stay with us for most of the time.”

I don’t give a shit.

Again, I shake my head while the urge to scream at the top of my lungs builds in my chest.

“Ciara will not be forced into an arranged marriage,” I practically growl. With my eyes throwing daggers at Dad, I continue, “Nothing has changed. I kept my end of the deal.” Pointing blindly in Dominik’s direction, I hiss, “Ciara will not marry that man. I don’t care who he is.”

I begin to feel downright feral, my body shaking with pure rage. In this moment I can actually convince myself I’m strong enough to fight off both my father and Dominik.

For Ciara, I’d try.

I hear my sister move as she climbs to her feet. She presses close to my side, her hand settling on my back. Feeling how she’s trembling only makes my anger grow tenfold.

Last night, I was beaten to a pulp, and today, I have to fight the most important fight of my life.

I lift my chin higher, ready to do whatever is necessary to keep Ciara safe.

Chapter 4

DOMINIK

I should be upset, but as I watch Grace lose her shit, I’m actually impressed.

The fire burning in her eyes is so intense I’m starting to think she’s about to physically attack her father. Then my gaze shifts to the mouse hiding against Grace’s side, and my top lip curls.

Definitely not my kind of woman.

My eyes flick back to the fierce expression making Grace look like a fucking queen.

She was beaten to within an inch of her life, but there’s no sign of the trauma I saw in her eyes last night.

There’s only the fire to protect her sister.

I guess my first impression of her was wrong. When I crashed through the window and saw Pavlov’s right-hand man beating Grace, I didn’t feel a flicker of pity for her. When I looked into her wide eyes filled with horror and fear, she seemed weak and broken.

She also shrieked like a fucking banshee in my ear and clung to me like a spider monkey when I leaped out of the building.

And not even a minute after driving away, she passed out.

I thought Grace was just another weak mafia princess.

As I stare at the fierce woman, I realize just how wrong I was about her.

If I cared about having a wife and building a family life for myself, I’d insist on marrying Grace. At least a marriage with her would be interesting.

But I don’t care about trivial things like love, family, and marriage, so the mouse will do.

I don’t even have to fuck her. We can go the artificial insemination route to have a child.

My eyebrow lifts at the thought, really liking it.

Sex isn’t an essential part of my life. Come to think of it, it has probably been over a decade since I last got laid.

It doesn’t matter, because being intimate with someone means letting them into your life.

Like I said, I’m a hermit, and the mere thought of being around people tires me. I need months to recover from one day of social interaction, so having a woman in my personal space is not an option at all.

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