Page 153 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
"Yes." He draws in a breath. "It’s the most important lesson I learned during the time I was locked up there. You had to think on your feet, hold back. As long as you had something that your opponent wanted, you had a chance."
"Am I your opponent?" I tip my head back, peruse his features for the first time since he’d come into the room. Dark shadows circle his eyes, and his stubble seems wilder somehow.
It enhances his potency.
Those dark, brooding, smoldering good looks just kicked up a notch. Combined with that hint of defenselessness that laces his features, it’s intoxicating. An addiction. A low burn simmers in my belly. My body is too conditioned to react to him. I don’t stand a chance.
I reach for his hand, his fingers brush mine and he pulls me up. I straighten and our knees bump.
He tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ears and I shiver.
His gaze deepens as he surveys my face. He sighs, "Bird, I’m…"
A cough sounds from the bed. I blink. Sinclair withdraws. I swivel, walk toward the bed, "Daddy?"
My father’s eyes blink open. "Summer?"
"I’m here."
His fingers twitch. I grasp his palm. His hand is bigger than mine, yet his bones seem hollow.
"I’m sorry, for everything."
"You need to rest and recover.’
"It’s time for me to leave.
"Don’t say that." My heart begins to race; a weakness hollows my knees. I grab the edge of the bed.
"You need to get better and…" My voice falters. I am not sure what to say. Come home with me? Do we have anything in common anymore? Our worlds are too different; so much time has passed. "We can… make a fresh start."
"You do that for me." He glances up at the man towering above us. "Take care of her."
Sinclair moves closer, until his warmth envelops me. "I will." His voice seems to be coming from far away.
"I can take care of myself."
"I know." My father’s face lights up in a smile. "But life is a long walk; there are ups and downs, and the time goes faster when you have company."
My father’s face waves in and out in front of my eyes. Only then do I realize that I am crying.
I swipe at the tears on my face. "Is that how it was between you and my mother?"
"I was never the same after she died." His chin trembles. "But it won't be long before I see her."
My blood pounds behind my eyes, "Don’t talk like that," I sniffle. "You are going to be fine."
He gasps, glances up at Sinclair, "There’s something you should know." He swallows; his chest heaves.
The beeping from the monitor next to him increases in pace. "Daddy, please don’t talk. Please, you need to conserve your energy."
"I must." He draws in a breath, "I’m afraid he's tracked me down."
"Who?" Sinclair moves closer, "Tell me, Adam."
"Stop." I shove at Sin, "Back off, asshole, let him recover first."
"Mob. Underworld boss." My father coughs; all color leaches from his face. "He called me and threatened me. He's going to hurt my girls."
