Page 55 of Ruthless Redemption

“Good idea.” Keira nods. “We’ll get our things from the car and meet you in the house.”

Hunter, Sarah, and Decker remain silent. They don’t even glance my way.

I wish the rejection didn’t hurt, but it does. It festers inside me, weakening limbs and organs.

The three of them have done far worse than I ever have. They’ve betrayed us all in their own way. But apparently, their sins are forgivable because they’ve also killed to protect us.

Matthew leads the way toward the living room. I’m loathe to follow as he pulls the sliding door wide and waits for us.

It’s Stella who makes the first move, striding toward him with a smile of admiration. “Thank you.”

If only she knew his family killed her father.

“You’re more than welcome,principessa.”

I give him a reprimanding scowl, silently warning him not to manipulate her with his dreamy Italian like he does with me. But he doesn’t meet my gaze. He’s too focused on my daughter, his expression kind, his posture nonthreatening.

“Did you bring your swim suit?” he asks.

“Why?” She balks. “It’s too cold.”

“You can’t come to the ocean and not take advantage of the surf. I’ve got boards in the garage that haven’t seen the light of day in over a year. We can’t leave them draped in cobwebs.”

“Are you serious?” She glances to me with excitement. “Surfing?”

“She doesn’t know how to surf.” My friendly expression is fake. My kind tone, too. “It’s best to leave it for another—”

“Please, Mom.” She clasps her hands in prayer as she hovers at the threshold. “I want to learn.”

I hold the dark eyes of the man who has already worked my daughter around his little finger, trying to let him know he’s crossing multiple lines.

“Forgive me.” He raises his hands in surrender. “If you don’t have a bathing suit, it’s better to surf some other time.”

I keep staring, glaring, because unlike his ignorant ass, I know it’s already too late to backtrack.

“I can wear shorts and a T-shirt,” Stella counters. “Or we could buy something. Are there shops around here?Please, Mom.”

I don’t know how he does it. Is it the easy smile? The confident posture? The deep, chocolate eyes?

He’s won my daughter over faster than he did me. But he doesn’t stare back in victory. There’s no demoralizing grin or smug smirk. His eyes are questioning. Cautious. Does he actually care that he’s betraying me again?

“We’ll see.” I shoo her forward with a wave of my hand, then follow her inside. “You’re not going to be here long, remember? You might find something more exciting to do.”

“Like what?”

Good question.

I take the lead toward the hall, leaving Matthew in our wake. “I’m sure there are a million things.”

She sighs as I step into my bedroom with the mess of half-opened packages strewn across the floor. I tidy the rubbish, grabbing crumpled paper and plastic as she belly flops on the bed, her body bouncing on impact.

“Time to spill the details.” She turns onto her back, her long hair covering her face. “So, Matthew is the guy you’ve been spending all your time with? I thought you were just friends.”

“We are.”

“Mom, he’s clearly simping over you.”

“Simping?” I turn away, hiding from her scrutiny. “Do I want to know what that means?”

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