MARCO
Iscrubbed at the center of my chest, trying and failing to ignore the ache behind my ribs. I sucked in a breath before taking a long gulp of beer from the frosted bottle in my hand. The coolness against my fingers did little to soothe the strange, too-tight sensation that tugged on my skin. Muscles flexed, my frustration having no outlet.
Because I wasn’t mad at her: Ashlyn, my babygirl. I was pissed off at her bastard father. His judgmental bullshit had made her too scared to tell him about us.
I took another swig of beer and continued to ignore the pain that knifed through my chest.
It wasn’t fair to her for me to feel…
I gnashed my teeth and set the bottle down on the kitchen counter with a little too much force. Beer foamed up and spilled down the sides of the glass, wetting the granite before I had the chance to toss it in the sink with a curse.
I hadn’t finished cleaning up the mess when the front door slammed shut, jerking my attention away from my task.
“Marco!” My name hitched on her sob as she called out for me.
I was in the foyer before my next ragged breath, and my arms closed around her trembling body, pulling her tight against me. She buried her face in my shoulder, her tears wetting my shirt. My heart twisted in my chest.
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” she cried, twining her slender arms around me and clinging on desperately. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, babygirl,” I tried to reassure her, my voice strangely rough with emotion. I hated her distress, her pain. “I’m not upset.”
She tipped her head back, and her wide, shining blue eyes pierced my soul. Her gaze searched mine for a moment, and her brow furrowed.
“Yes, you are,” she countered on a strained whisper. “You are upset. I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
I trailed my fingers through her dark hair, and she leaned into the soothing touch. The soft glide of the silken strands beneath my callouses calmed me, and I drew a deep breath as the tightness in my chest finally eased.
I cupped her pale cheeks in both hands, stroking her tears away. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
More hot tears spilled over my thumbs. “But I do,” she sobbed. “I am sorry. I should’ve told my father about you—about us—a long time ago. I was going to tell him today. In person. But I should’ve done it sooner.” Her delicate hands caressed my face, tracing the tight line of my jaw as I clenched my teeth at the mention of her father. “I didn’t want you to know,” she said with the weight of a confessed sin. “I lied to you.”
I searched my memory. “You didn’t lie about anything, sweet girl,” I promised. “I never asked. I should have. I know how difficult it is for you to talk to your father. I should’ve stayed to support you today. I’m the one who’s sorry.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
A small, broken sound eased from her throat. “He didn’t accept our relationship. I told him I love you—you and Joseph. And he… He rejected me. I should’ve known. I did know. But I hoped…” She trailed off, her voice going too high and thin.
A shudder rolled through her, and she tucked her face against my chest, hiding from me. “I’ve been such a coward, waiting all this time. And now, I hurt you. It was awful. I feel awful. I love you so much, Daddy. You have to know that.” Her small fingers curved into my back, drawing me impossibly closer.
I cupped her nape and held her firmly but gently, making sure she felt my love and support. “I love you too, babygirl,” I vowed. “I love you, and I accept you just as you are. I’m okay. I was upset, but I’m okay now.” I owed her the truth that I’d been refusing to acknowledge.
That pain in my chest had everything to do with the fact that her father hadn’t known about me, about us. But I wasn’t upset with Ashlyn. She’d been hurt far more that I was, and it was my job to take care of her. Instead, I’d left her alone to face her father’s censure and judgment.
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that on your own,” I rumbled, rubbing her back in soothing strokes. “I’ve got you now.”
Her breath hitched on a little gasp, and she squeezed me tighter. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you.”
She leaned back, gazing up at me but not breaking our fierce embrace. Her lovely eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m glad I finally told him about us—about our family. Even if…” she sniffled but continued on, “Even if my father doesn’t understand, that doesn’t change anything. You are the most important thing in my life. You and Joseph are everything to me.”
I brushed a lock of hair back from her tear-streaked cheek. “I understand why you were scared to tell him about us. I was hurt in the moment, but I’m not anymore.” She had to know the truth, and I was past the days of hiding my more vulnerable emotions from my family. I tried to stem the flow of her tears with my thumbs once again. “I’m sorry your father made you cry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. I was stupid to get so caught up in worrying about his reaction when you’re all that matters to me: your happiness, Marco. That’s what matters.”
“You do make me happy,” I swore. “Happier than I ever would’ve thought possible.”
Before my sweet girl came into my life—before I kidnapped her and dragged her into it—I’d been a shell of a man. I’d barely let myself feel anything at all, and the only person I allowed close to my heart was Joseph. He’d needed my protection, and he was the only one in our criminal world I’d given a shit about.
Now, Ashlyn needed my protection. I would always keep her safe and content. That was my purpose in life.