Page 121 of An Indecent Longing

Then she turned and walked toward the stairs.

“Dorrie! Damn it. Stop.”

She did, but only long enough to say, “I’m calling Gens. It won’t take him long to get here. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me but we’re done.”

She disappeared up the stairs and he heard the door to his room close with a bare whisper of sound.

* * * * *

As Ian pulled into the lane leading to Antonoff’s home, the gates opened as if by magic.

He’d called ahead to let Antonoff know he was coming but hadn’t told him why. He wanted to tell the bastard that he knew his dirty little secret to his face.

He hadn’t left home with the intention of coming here. He’d only had to get out of the house. Get away from Dorrie. Away from the lies.

Rage curdled in his gut, made his jaw tight enough to snap. He wanted to smash something but he knew he couldn’t be that stupid, especially because the something he wanted to smash was Antonoff’s face.

Which was, of course, the stupidest thing he could do.

Stopping in front of that grand manor, Ian took a second to breathe, even though the front door had opened and a thug in a suit had stepped out onto the circular driveway.

As he headed for the entrance, he saw Antonoff in the foyer just inside the door. Stone-faced, as always. Ian had the almost uncontrollable urge to rip the man’s head off but before he could speak, Antonoff beat him to the punch.

“Mr. Keller. I’ve already been informed of your meeting with Tosto’s men. I want to thank you again for your assistance—”

“Daddy.” A woman’s voice interrupted. “The man already knows who she is. Please, just stop.”

Ian had seen pictures of Larisa Antonoff, who now came hurrying down the stairs. But he’d never noticed the family resemblance between Dorrie and Larisa until now. Of course, he hadn’t known to look for one before now. And in all of those pictures, he’d only seen the icy reserve that must be an Antonoff family trait.

Now, fear showed in every line on her face as she stopped at the end of the stairs and put her hand on Ian’s forearm. He had to make a conscious effort not to pull away.

Get a grip.

“Is Dorrie okay? No one touched her, did they?”

“No.” Ian shook his head. “No one got near her.”

“How did he find out? Did he say anything at all about how he knows—”

“Risa.” Antonoff’s voice cut her off like a knife. “Let’s take this into my office. I’m sure Mr. Shaw would appreciate a private audience for your interrogation.”

If Ian thought Antonoff would intimidate his daughter—his oldest daughter—Larisa quickly disabused him of that by rolling her eyes and shaking her head. But then she huffed and pulled on Ian’s arm.

“Fine. Come with me, Mr. Keller. We need to talk.”

Half a minute later, Ian found himself behind a thick wooden door in a room that made him think of old Sherlock Holmes movies. This was clearly Antonoff’s personal office.

And it was like nothing Ian would’ve imagined.

“All right. No one can hear us in here.” Larisa hopped onto the edge of the desk, long legs and arms crossed as she glared at Ian. “Speak.”

Ian’s attention sliced back to Antonoff but the man had slumped into the chair behind the desk. He finally appeared to be showing some emotion. A little fear, a lot of exhaustion. But he kept his mouth shut.

He couldn’t believe the man was going to let his daughter do the questioning but then he didn’t really know Antonoff at all.

And he didn’t want to. The man was a criminal who peddled drugs and weapons and people and murdered others.

And he was Dorrie’s father.

---