Page 69 of Possession

They both turn to me—mother and daughter. They share the same eyes, the same build, the same complexion. If it weren’t for the selfish bitch that Nellie Alba carries in her soul, I’d say whoever ends up with Landyn for life is a lucky man.

But Landyn is nothing like her mother.

There’s a shit ton going on in this room, but all I see are the tears streaking Landyn’s face.

The moment her blue eyes hit me, her tears flow faster. It feels like an anvil landed on my chest.

I don’t hesitate and reach for her. I pull her to me, but I also pull her away from the woman who calls herself a parent.

Nellie Alba is no mother.

I know. I have the best there is.

And despite ignoring my wife most of last night and all day today, she falls into my arms. My shirt is fisted in her hands and her face is planted in my chest.

I dip my hand in her hair and put my lips to the top of her head. “You okay?”

Her tremble says it all, and hell if it doesn’t touch a place deep within me.

I look over her head and glare at the woman who did this to her.

Nellie takes us in, wide-eyed. “Boz Torres?”

“I invited you here to give Landyn a piece of her family after what she’s been through. You’re just as fucking selfish as your husband. Dennis Alba might have made a deal with the devil to hand her over, but for you to use Landyn so the Alba’s can weasel their way back into the Marino business is just as bad.”

Nellie shakes her head quickly and takes two steps toward us, doing just as shitty of a job pleading her case as her husband. “No. I’d never try to use Landyn. We were just talking and catching up. She’s upset about what she’s been through. Tell him, Landyn.”

“You’ll stand here in a Marino home and lie to me? I don’t offer second chances. This was your one and only opportunity to salvage a relationship with your daughter. You blew it.”

Nellie’s expression falls. “No, please. Boz—”

“Mr. Torres,” I demand.

Nellie takes a step back and grips her own hands in a tangle of desperation as she tries to climb out of her pile of shit. “Of course, I’m sorry. Mr. Torres, Landyn and I were only talking—catching up on what she’s been through since she…” she pauses before choosing her words carefully. “Since the two of you were married.”

“You’re checking in on married life while asking your daughter to spy on me, my business, and this family? You’ve been deep in this world since you married your husband twenty-six years ago, Nellie. You should know that waltzing in here with the assumption you can make demands of anyone—especiallymywife—is a mistake you’ll only make once.”

“No!” Her desperation climbs to a new pathetic level reserved for the most selfish of humans. “I would never disrespect you or the Marinos. Please, let me explain. Dennis wants another chance—he’ll beg you for another chance. That’s all I was trying to do. No one will do business with his company since the Marino family blackballed him. Our lives are falling apart.”

“You asked your daughter to cross her husband.”

“No.” She continues to backpedal. “We’re family now. You’re my son-in-law—”

“I’m not your anything,” I growl. “Your daughter is mine. Word must not have traveled fast enough. I’ll have to do something about that sooner rather than later. If you disrespect my wife, you disrespect me.”

“I’d never disrespect you—I swear,” she cries. “We’re family. That has to mean something, right?”

I drag my fingers through Landyn’s hair far enough to wrap it around my fist and give it a tug. For the second time in a matter of days, her own fucking parents have reduced her to tears. “Do you want me to protect you from your family?”

She swallows over her tears as her blue eyes sear me, warming me, bringing life to a place that’s been dead for years.

“What does that mean?” Nellie screeches.

Landyn and I don’t move a muscle. We stare into each other’s eyes, and it doesn’t feel like anyone’s watching. It feels like we’re alone.

I lean down to take her mouth in a deep, hard kiss. Her salty tears feed me and ignite me in a way I’m worried about my own personal resolve.

This does not fit into my plan. She doesn’t fit into my life—or lack of—since I’m living and breathing one lie after another. When I let her mouth go and tip my forehead to hers, she looks like she’s at her own crossroad to hell, and like me, once she crosses, there’s no going back.

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