LOREN
Mascro. The name swirled in my head, and I felt sick. It couldn’t be the same family. Right?
It seemed too coincidental, though. Some of the information Dayton had revealed started to click, aligning with what Attie had shared, but I still didn’t want to believe it.
Because if it was true, then it meant…
I couldn’t fathom that thought.
Goosebumps spread over my skin, and I shivered, covering myself with my arms. I walked along in a daze, unsure how to proceed. What did I do here? If it wasn’t the same man, would I only cause pain by making them believe something that wasn’t real?
Ethically, he was a client, and confidentiality dictated I didn’t share without his consent.
But… and I’d never felt a but so hard in my life before.
But what if he was their father?
But what if he was the monster who sold Immy?
But what if he was the man Atticus believed he killed, but he was, in fact, very much alive?
‘What if’ had never felt so scary.
A hand brushed my shoulder, and I jumped, knocking into the body behind me. Hands landed on my hips, and I steadied, their weight helping to ground me. Jude looked at me in concern, and I realized his mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear any sound.
Nicco stepped in, cupping my face, and the body behind me moved closer, encompassing me in a bubble of tuxedoed men. Nicco’s eyes gazed at me, his thumbs brushing over my cheek. It probably messed up the torture artists' hard work, but I didn’t care; his touch felt nice. Leaning into it, I closed my eyes and sighed as the world around me returned.
“Beautiful, are you back with me?”
I nodded but kept my eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his hands on my face and the ones on my hips that had to be Sax. I felt terrible that I’d ditched Attie, but right now, he made things too confusing.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I…” I swallowed, my throat dry. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” My eyes opened, and I found him frowning. Nicco didn’t push, nodding that he accepted my answer.
“Okay.” His hands dropped, and I instantly missed their presence. Thankfully, he took my hand, not leaving me altogether. I sighed in relief, worried I was going to screw this up. Sax's hand went to the small of my back as he moved to my side, letting Nicco guide us. The scenery and people blurred together as we walked.
We stopped at a table near the front of a stage where Atticus waited, holding out a chair for me. I spotted his jaw tick, and I knew he was upset with me, assuming this was about what he’d told me.
But it wasn’t. Not really.
Attempting to repair things, I stepped forward and kissed his cheek, lingering there for a moment before I stepped back and took the seat he offered. He stood stunned for a millisecond before snapping into action, pushing me in as I lowered.
It was one of those perfect chair pushes you saw well-mannered men achieve, but anyone who hadn’t had etiquette training failed miserably at.
Immy and Jude sat across from me, with Sax on my right side and Nicco next to him. It was the first time I noticed the hierarchical position between the three of them, and I realized being out in public meant they had to take on their roles. Nicco was more subdued than usual, and it made me wonder how much I’d been neglecting him lately. I’d barely spoken to him at the fight, and we hadn’t spent any alone time outside our tattoos. Shit.
I needed to figure this out because I wanted our unconventional relationship to work. It meant something to me, and I was determined to keep things equal as much as possible.
Atticus leaned close, whispering in my ear, his breath tickling me. “I do hope nothing I’ve said scared you. You mean something to my family, and I’d hate to see that stop.”
I turned, intrigued by the change in his words. He’d said family. Our faces were brought close together as I looked him over. “Just your family? Not you?”
“It’s clear my past changed how you feel. I was prepared to accept it. I was expecting it, honestly.”
His eyes fell, and my heart broke for him. The tension between us had been back and forth for so long, I could understand his reluctance to trust this calm. Running my hand up to his chest, I grabbed hold of his suit lapels, pulling him the last few inches between us. In the background, I faintly heard Sax tell Immy and Jude to turn their heads or go get dessert. Knowing my overgrown protector had my back, even with his friend, gave me the confidence to seal my lips to Atticus’.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss, our surroundings inhibiting us from more, and keeping it brief. But it was significant, and I knew Atticus understood that. I’d just claimed him in front of the upper echelon, my peers, and perhaps his to a degree. It meant everything.