Including mine.
After the show, I gave my father my arm and helped him up the stairs and to the back of the stage. Dancers were still in their leotards and were pulling the clips from their hair. Spouses and lovers handed over arrangements of roses and issued kisses of congratulations.
We moved to the rear, where my sister stood at her dressing table. Her hair was already pulled free from its constraints, so it flowed freely down her chest. Her green eyes were identical to mine, a gift from our mother.
Before we reached her station, I noticed there was already a bunch of roses on the surface.
When she saw our father, her eyes lit up in joy. “Daddy!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Despite his weakness, he managed to pull strength from nowhere and hug her hard. He held her like he didn’t want to let her go, like she was a little girl reading in her bedroom. “You were wonderful, sweetheart.” He pulled away and watched her with affectionate eyes. “The best dancer on that stage.”
She smiled but rolled her eyes. “Of course you think that.”
“And I mean it.” He took her hand and kissed the top.
Emotion entered her gaze.
Father took the flowers he’d picked out from my hand and gave them to her. “For you.”
“They’re beautiful. Daisies…my favorite.” She brought them to her nose and smelled them. “Thank you, Father.” She turned to me next. “Hey. Hope you didn’t fall asleep.”
I gave her a one-armed hug. “Father is right. You really were the best on that stage.”
“Really?” she asked in surprise. “You usually say I look like a troll in my tights.”
“You do. Doesn’t mean you aren’t a good dancer.”
She elbowed me in the gut. “Jerk.”
I chuckled then let her go. “Can we take you to dinner?”
She glanced at the flowers on the vanity discreetly. “Actually, I already have plans. What if we get together tomorrow night instead?”
I connected the dots quickly and realized she was seeing someone. Irrational-older-brother-syndrome kicked in, and I wanted to tie him up and give him the interrogation of a lifetime. But I had to remind myself not every man was a drug dealer who visited whorehouses. “That’s fine with me.”
We said our goodbyes then made our way out of the theater. On the way, my father needed to take a detour to the bathroom. I opened the door for him and let him inside then waited in the hallway.
Most of the people had filed out of the building and got into their cars, so the place was mostly empty. I leaned against the wall and pulled out my phone. Instead of texting Annabella, I opened Sofia’s message box.
I should say something.
I knew I was in the wrong. I knew she deserved better.
But it was late and I couldn’t think of anything to write, so I slid the phone back into my pocket. I lifted my gaze and looked across the hall.
And made contact with bright-blue eyes.
Tall and muscular, he leaned against the opposite wall, his suit fitting his large frame like it’d been tailored for the event. His hands rested in his pockets, and he stared at me with a slight smile, enjoying the fact that he’d caught me off guard.
I didn’t react—but my heart did pick up in speed.
I thought of my father, who was about to exit the bathroom and right into the line of fire.
Heath was still, letting the eye contact last a full minute without blinking.
I didn’t blink either.
He finally pushed off the wall and came toward me.
I didn’t have my gun—but I had my knife in my coat pocket.
He stopped in front of me, his smile stretching wider. “Taking your father to the theater—that’s cute.”
“You really want to die outside a bathroom?”
“Whoa.” He chuckled as he raised both hands. “Are you always this aggressive?”
I kept the same expression. “Yes.”
“I just want my money, Damien. Then I’ll go away.”
“I don’t owe you a damn thing—”
He moved too quickly for me to see, and he slugged me hard in the stomach.
I lost my breath with the gasp and felt my back slam into the wall, but I controlled the groan from escaping my throat.
He grabbed both of my shoulders and pinned me against the wall. “I told you I wouldn’t be so civil at our next meeting. It’s just going to get worse and worse. And if I can’t get what I want…I’ll kill you.”
12
Annabella
It was past ten, and I still hadn’t heard from Damien.
I wanted to play it cool, but I lost my patience. My dick appointment hasn’t been rescheduled, right?
Nothing.
An hour passed, and I didn’t hear anything.
Now, it was eleven, and there was no way he was still at the theater. And if he took his family out to dinner, they would be finished by now. Or he would have texted me back and said otherwise.