Page 81 of Desperate Actions

I don’t care what my father thinks.

I don’t care about his reservations, his old-school sense of control, his need to always be the protector.

I made my choice.

And I’m standing by it.

For however long this thing with Sammy lasts.

Even if it’s only for right now.

“Okay then,” Ellie interrupts, her voice smooth and firm, the kind that brooks no argument.

“The sky’s about to open up. Let’s leave this till tomorrow. 7 o’clock?”

I nod.

She smiles warmly, gives my hands a gentle squeeze, and then turns to kiss Sammy’s cheek.

Like everything is normal.

Like my father didn’t just try to knock my husband’s head clean off his shoulders.

Like I’m not standing here, still reeling from the entire fucking day.

“Come on, Pixie,” Sammy murmurs, his voice steady, grounding, as he takes my hand.

The simple touch sends warmth spreading up my arm, settling low in my stomach, like somewhere, deep down, I already belong to him.

I barely register the goodbyes, the murmured see-you-tomorrows, before he leads me to a black luxury SUV waiting just past the curb.

It’s sleek, tinted, powerful—just like him.

Sammy opens the passenger door, his big hands settling on my waist as he lifts me into the seat with ease, like I weigh nothing.

It’s not until he hands me a paper towel that I realize it’s raining.

Soft, steady droplets streak across the windshield. They already caught in my hair, dampening it and my skin.

I blink down at the paper towel in my hands, then back up at him.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything else in the back,” he mutters, climbing into the driver’s seat, his fingers running through his damp hair as he exhales.

“This is fine,” I whisper, my head still spinning, my body still thrumming from everything that just happened.

Sammy starts the engine, turning the heat on low, his gaze flicking to me, careful, assessing.

“Look, Aella, I’m sorry about all that.”

I stare at him, frowning.

“You’re sorry?” I scoff, disbelief thick in my voice. “What for? That was my father acting like a Neanderthal.”

Sammy shakes his head, lips quirking slightly, his hands flexing over the steering wheel.

“Nah. He’s just looking out for you. Protecting you. I can’t blame him for that.”

My mouth opens, then shuts.

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