Dark Lover(50)

Wrath actually seemed to miss her father. Or whatever man he was channeling for the purpose of…

What exactly was he trying to pull here? she wondered. Where did it get him to throw out this crap?

Well, she was in his bedroom, wasn't she?

"And Fritz tells me he loved you very deeply."

Beth pursed her lips. "Assuming I even buy any of this, I've got to wonder. If my father cared so much, why didn't he bother to introduce himself to me?"

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, it's really hard to walk up to your daughter, stick your hand out, and say your name. Real tough stuff." She walked across the room, only to find herself next to the bed. She quickly paced elsewhere. "And what's up with the warrior rhetoric? Was he in the mob, too?"

"Mob? We're not the mob, Beth."

"So you're just freelance killers as well as drug dealers?

Hmmm… Come to think of it, diversification is probably a good business strategy. And you need a lot of cash to keep up a house like this. As well as fill it full of art that belongs in the Met."

"Darius inherited his money and he was very good at taking care of it." Wrath leaned his head back, as if he were looking up at the house. "As his daughter, all of this is yours now."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, really."

He nodded.

What a crock, she thought.

"So where's the will? Where's some executor ready to pass papers? Wait, let me guess, the estate's been in probate. For the last thirty years." She rubbed her aching eyes. "You know, Wrath, you don't have to lie to get me in bed. As much as I'm ashamed of myself, all you have to do is ask."

She took a deep, sad breath. Until now she hadn't realized that a small part of her had believed she'd get some answers. Finally.

Then again, desperation could make a fool out of anyone.

"Look, I'm going to take off. This was just-"

Wrath was in front of her faster than she could blink. "I can't let you go."

Fear licked her heart, but she put up a good front. "You can't make me stay."

His hands lifted to her face. She jerked back, but he wouldn't let go.

The pad of his thumb stroked her cheek. Whenever he got too close, she became spellbound and it happened again. She felt her body swaying toward his.

"I'm not lying to you," he said. "Your father sent me to you because you're going to need my help. Trust me."

She yanked away. "I don't want to hear that word on your lips."

Here he was, a criminal who'd almost killed a cop in front of her, and he was expecting her to buy a line of bull that she knew was false.

While he was stroking her face like a lover.

He must think she was a moron.

"Look, I've seen my records." Her voice didn't waver. "My birth certificate lists my father as unknown, but there was a note in the file. My mother told a nurse in the delivery room that he'd passed away. She was unable to disclose a name because she went into shock from blood loss thereafter and died herself."

"I'm sorry, but that's just not what happened."

"You're sorry. Yeah, I bet you are."

"I'm not playing games-"

"The hell you aren't! God, to think for even a moment that I might know one of them, even secondhand…" She stared at him with disgust. "You are so cruel."

He swore, a nasty, frustrated sound. "I don't know how to get you to believe me."

"Don't bother trying. You have no credibility." She grabbed her purse. "Hell, it's probably better this way. I would almost rather he'd died than know that he was a criminal. Or that we'd lived in the same town all my life but he never came to see me, wasn't even curious enough to know what I looked like."

"He knew." Wrath's voice was very near again. "He knew you."

She spun around. He was so close he overwhelmed her with his size.

Beth leaped away. "Stop this right now."

"He knew you."

"Stop saying that!"

"Your father knew you," Wrath shouted.

"Then why didn't he want me?" she yelled back.

Wrath winced. "He did. He watched over you. All your life he was never far away."

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn't believe she was tempted to fall under his spell again.

"Beth, look at me. Please."

She lifted her lids.

"Give me your hand," he said. "Give it to me."

When she didn't respond, he placed her palm on his chest, over his heart.

"On my honor. I have not lied to you."

He became utterly still, as if giving her a chance to read every nuance of his face and his body.

Could this be the truth? she wondered.

"He loved you, Beth."

Don't believe this. Don't believe this. Don't-