Page 67 of Saved By the Marines (Soldiers Of Misfortune)

“What the hell?” I grumbled, getting up to go to the front door. Wolfe’s family used the back door more than the front typically. They also rarely knocked without sticking a head in and calling out for us.

The guys were at work, though I knew they had their dad watching over the property and house. Jean wasn’t ever very far away either. It’d been six months since my kidnapping in Colombia, and I finally had settled and wasn’t jumping at every shadow. Sleeping with one of the guys each night helped with that. No one would dare to pry me out of their arms.

I got off the couch and approached the door. My jaw dropped when I saw through the windows who was standing outside. Unease filled me as I debated on what to do.

Dad took the decision out of my hands and opened the door and stepped inside, huddled inside his thousand-dollar coat. “Really, Bailey. Did I teach you such poor manners that you’d leave a guest cooling his heels on the porch. A man could freeze to death out there.”

We rarely locked the door since we were so far outside the city. Our property wasn’t in the nearby town and usually it was only Wolfe’s family out here. From now on, I was going to start locking that.

My jaw moved but no sounds were coming out of my mouth. I’d only heard angry rantings from him over the last few months so I never expected him to show up here.

His eyes narrowed on my stomach and his jaw clenched. “I see I’m going to be a grandfather.”

My brows shot up. When I’d told him I was dating all three of my Marines he’d blown a gasket and threatened us. Then he’d tried to get them fired from their jobs. He failed. I should have known that he wouldn’t just stop there. “Why are you here?”Playing nice. Being fake.I kept those thoughts to myself.

“I want a relationship with you,” he snapped. He moved over and sat down on the couch.

Everything inside of me was screaming to offer him some coffee. I had been taught manners, but it’d been by the butler—Mr. Ferguson—and his wife, not by Dad.

I sat down in a chair across from him, wariness forcing me to swallow any show of thoughtfulness. He’d burned me too many times. And here he was barking at me as usual. The words might have been sweet, but his tone soured everything. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” he all but growled at me.

“If I had to make a guess I’d say that the press was wondering why your daughter is never around anymore and you’re desperate to make them believe nothing’s wrong.” I bit back the sarcastic tone and the words came out a bit robotic, but I truly believed them.

He glared at me. “Shows what you know. The press hasn’t said a word about you. I made sure of it. What else could I do when you’re shacking up with three men?”

Shacking up.That was his attempt to say it nicely. I could see the judgment, the disgust in his eyes.

I gritted my teeth and gave him a hard look. “If you’re going to speak badly about me, you won’t be doing it in my home. You can leave.”

The fact that my simple words left him looking so shocked told me just how much I’d always given into him. I’d done so much growing in the last six months, without him there to verbally beat me down, I almost didn’t recognize the woman I was anymore.

“I need your help,” Dad finally admitted.

“With what?”

“There’s a ball-”

“No.” I shook my head when he gave me an imploring look. “I’m finished with your political world, Dad. If you want some kind of relationship with me and your grandchild it will only be one where we stay out of the press. I’m not putting my kid through what you did to me. My child will not be a pawn for campaigning.”

“As if you had that bad of a childhood,” he responded with a disgusted snort.

I didn’t bother to argue with him. “If you want a relationship it will have nothing to do with politics, the press, or events.”

The silence was heavy between us as he studied me. “Fine.” With that, he got up and walked out the door.

I sat in my chair, numb. There was nothing he could do that would shock me anymore. Him walking away, honestly, was a blessing. One I’d take happily.

Getting up, I made myself a cup of hot chocolate. I settled back down in front of the fireplace, determined to get back into my book. In reality, I stared at the words until they blurred in front of my eyes, not really seeing them.

Was this how it would be? Him randomly popping up out of nowhere, forcing me to reassert my boundaries every time and making me miserable? God. I hoped not.

The fire was smoldering embers by the time I was shaken out of my trance like state.

“What the fuck, Brat? It’s freezing in here,” Jasper barked, yanking me against him.

I blinked and looked around. My mug of untouched chocolate was sitting on the glass side table and it was dark.

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