Page 51 of Possession

“Now is not the time, Landyn. We’re going to be front and center and need to act the part.”

I throw rules for a successful cold shoulder out the window and turn to him fully. “You know, for someone who was so close to Damian, you don’t seem very broken up about his new status.”

There’s a tick in his muscled jaw before he turns forward and slams his hand into the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

I jerk at his outburst that causes our luxury SUV to rock.

Maybe I was wrong, and he really is upset about Damian. I hardly know him. How am I supposed to know how he reacts to his boss and friend dying a violent death?

He doesn’t give me another glance and pushes his door open. I don’t move and watch him stalk around to my door. He opens it and silently holds a hand out for me as he stands there in the bright morning San Diego sun. He’s in all black other than his tie that’s a beautiful gold silk with a touch of gray woven through. I can’t see his eyes behind his opaque shades, but I can only imagine what they’re silently screaming right now.

“You’re angry,” I state.

His voice is low and controlled, and I don’t like the sound of it. “I’m a lot of things, baby, but anger is one thing I don’t have time for. Let’s go.”

Mourners file into the church. I can’t exactly put this off any longer. If my father taught me anything growing up, if you want people to think you’re normal, you should at least act like it.

I’ll do my best to blend in, which in this case means faking how upset I am about not being married to Damian.

I grab my cream-colored clutch and put my hand in Boz’s. He helps me down and doesn’t let go of me as we head to the front doors of the church.

Guards are everywhere, making no effort to blend in. They don’t have their weapons drawn, but everyone gives them a wide berth.

My heels click double time to keep up with Boz when I hear my name called right before we get to the front doors.

“Landyn. Sweetheart, wait!”

Boz stops before I do and steps in front of me to block my view and mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I put my hand to his arm and peek around him.

Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Boz grits in a tone that isn’t at all inviting. “This is a closed service and you weren’t invited.”

“You’re not answering my calls.” Dad’s eyes land on me. “I want to check on my daughter.”

Wait, he’s checked up on me?

“That’s interesting,” Boz drawls and holds me behind him. “Your voicemails said nothing about Landyn and everything about wanting another shot at running Marino products. You have a lot of gall showing up here after what you did to your daughter and getting our load taken down by the feds.”

“But I’ve done business with the Marinos for years.” Desperation bleeds through my father’s voice before his blue eyes shift back to me in a frenzy. “Don’t listen to him, Landyn. I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve called every day—they won’t let me talk to you.”

I grip Boz’s arm tighter and look up to him. “Is that true?”

Boz doesn’t look away from my father but wraps a thick arm around me. “I still have his voicemails, baby. I’ll let you listen when we get back. He begged for another chance, but not once did he ask about you.”

My eyes dart to my father. I have no reason to believe Boz. Not one.

Other than the fact my father handed me over without a second thought solely to save himself.

Even without trusting Boz, the expression that settles on my father’s tired face says it all.

It’s a lie.

Which means Boz is telling the truth.

And for the first time since the Marinos took me from my home and forced me into this life, I’m not scared about what will happen next.

---