Page 103 of The Heart of a Villain

“Dad—”

“Dad agrees with her.”

We turn our heads to Dad as he steps on the terrace, his suit jacket flapping backward while his white shirt has several buttons open.

His blond hair billows a little while his sapphire eyes scan me from head to toe, and he cocks his head to the side. “At eighteen, you shouldn’t spend so much time with us.” He leans on his silver cane that was once just a weapon for him but now necessary to move freely, his hand pressing lightly on his stomach as he winces a little.

And as always in the last months, seeing him walking and talking warms my heart. “Dad,” I say, going to him and gently hugging him, breathing in his scent that calms me in ways nothing else can.

A scent I thought I’d never be able to smell again, his strong arms enveloping me in an embrace, grounding me in reality so I don’t think all this is a fragment of my imagination.

On the island, Uncle Arson and Octavius managed to get his heart beating again while wrapping up his wound. The chances of Dad surviving were almost null, and the only reason they even tried was because I was hysterical and relentless. Rafael’s helicopter took us to the nearest hospital, where they rushed him into surgery right away, but once again the doctor warned us to be prepared for the worst.

Dad lost so much blood, and they even gave him a transfusion with mine. The surgery lasted more than fifteen hours, while we were going crazy in the waiting room.

I refused to call my mom without knowing the final verdict.

The doctor finally came out; however, he didn’t have the best news for us. Dad’s heart was weak, they didn’t know the full extent of brain damage, and he ended up in a coma. He lost a kidney and needed one more surgery to fix a broken bone in his leg, and they didn’t think he would survive it. They advised us to say our goodbyes, and that’s why we finally went home to see Mom.

Because there was almost no hope left.

After Mom calmed down, she ripped us all a new one for being so cryptic and making her think he was dead.

She rushed to the hospital and spent all her time there, agreeing to the surgery for his leg despite doctor’s orders. While we slowly lost hope with each passing day, Uncle Arson preparing Levi and me to take over the empire, Mom believed he would make it. I don’t think I understood how much my parents loved each other until he woke up from the coma a month later, and the first word he spoke was Mom’s name.

We transferred Dad closer to home, where he went through extensive physical therapy, learning to do a lot of things anew, but his leg never fully healed.

At least for now.

We asked him to take it easier, but he didn’t listen, and he’s gone back to work already.

“I informed the staff about you tonight. You will get the best treatment and the VIP lounge. You’ll even get to watch the show—but no alcohol.” Dad’s voice pulls me back to the conversation at hand, away from the painful and uncertain times in the recent past. “Have fun and take a lot of pictures.”

I muster up a smile for him as his palm glides up and down my back. I love my dad for wanting me to be happy, but at the same time, I dread the time I’ll have to act all cheerful and excited, when in fact I feel anything but.

“Maybe. I just love you both so much!” I say, and he gives me a crooked smile. “I thought we’d play some chess.”

“I think we’ve played enough.” He kisses me on the forehead and lets me go while my mom hooks her arm through his. “I invited a beautiful woman on a date tonight.” He motions with his head toward Mom, who laughs. “Do you think she’ll agree?”

I tap on my lips, the knots in my stomach easing at seeing them both alive and happy. “Depends. Where will you take her?”

“To Paris.”

We both gasp, although it shouldn’t be surprising. We even have a house there, and Mom loves France.

She slaps him lightly on the chest. “Lachlan, have you lost your mind? You can’t travel! Remember what the doctor said?” His hold on her tightens, and he rests his forehead against hers as they silently communicate. “Oh!” Some kind of realization flashes on her face, and my brows furrow. “What a great idea! How long will we be gone?”

“We’ll be back in a week.”

As romantic as it sounds, maybe my parents should circle back to the doctor’s orders? “Dad, are you sure?” I look between them. “I mean, your health—”

“Aileen.”

I straighten up at his stern voice.

“We are the parents, and you’re the kid. Stop worrying about me and live your life.”

Right.

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