Page 48 of His Reward
“You!”
Or increasingly intimate moment was cut short by my father, of all people. He marched in through the firehouse’s open garage door, ignoring the guys who dropped what they were doing in their post-call routine and followed him as he charged over to me and Boston.
“Father?” I asked, pulling away from Boston. For the first time since before I moved to the firehouse, anxiety raged through me. “What are you doing here?”
“This is all your fault,” my father said, shaking a rolled-up sheaf of papers at me. “You put her up to this.”
I knew immediately what he meant. “Mom is her own person,” I said, feeling hotter than ever. “If you’re upset about her wanting a divorce, you need to think about your own role in the whole thing.”
“Don’t you lecture me,” Father railed, apparently oblivious to the cluster of angry alphas that gathered behind him, readyto defend me. “You’re the one that stepped out of line here, not me.”
“I beg your pardon?” I said, genuinely confused.
“We are a family,” my father shouted. “We are a legacy. You’re the one who has refused to play his part.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, feeling oddly nervous.
“No? Then ask your alpha,” Father continued to rail.
Boston tensed beside me. It wasn’t a good sign.
“We were supposed to band together to be the dominant family in the skating world,” Father went on. “The fire spoiled your place in it, but you were supposed to marry your rescuer, have babies, and send them to me to train them to be champions where you failed.”
“Excuse me?” It wasn’t so much that I was surprised my father could think of something like that, it was the audacity of the way he would be so blatant about reducing my role to that of brood mare, and in front of my friends, that offended me.
“That’s all you’re good for now,” Father continued. “I know it, your mom knows it, the whole skating world knows it. Even he knows it.” He threw out a hand to Boston.
“Mr. Monteverdi,” Boston began, like he would try to calm my father down.
“Ask him!” Father shouted. “Ask him about our conversation the night of the fire, when he came to visit you in the hospital. Ask him what I offered him.”
A gaping pit opened up in my stomach. It was hot and sour and made it hard for me to catch my breath. I glanced at Boston, but along with the rage pouring off him, I felt way too much guilt.
“Ask him!” Father snapped again. “Ask him how much money I offered him to date you, marry you, and knock you up.”
I nearly threw up. “Did he?” I asked Boston, my legs feeling too weak to hold me up.
“He offered,” Boston said. “I refused.”
“And yet, here you are,” my father said.
I really was going to be sick. My entire body was hot as blazes and my insides felt all wrong. “I—” I gulped, backing away from both my father and Boston. “I need to go,” I said, then turned and ran for the open garage door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Boston
Istarted after Lucien, but faced Mr. Monteverdi as I did to say, “Get out of my station,now!”
“I have every right?—”
That was as far as the bastard got before Roscoe and the guys stepped in to physically escort him from the premises.
I would have enjoyed watching them give Mr. Monteverdi what he deserved, but I had much more important things to focus on.
“Lucien!” I called out as I stepped into the chilly, early-spring morning. “Stop! Please!”
Lucien did stop and whirl back to face me, but fury was in his eyes and flushed his face. “Was it all a lie?” he demanded, taking a step back toward me. “Was this all some sort of act organized by my father so he wouldn’t look like the asshole he is for tossing me aside now that I’m broken?”
