My Father Traded Me To A Ruthless Boss — He Never Expected Him To Discover My Darkest Secret
Part 2
The room fell into a dead, horrifying silence as the fabric slid up my arm.
The scars were stark white and angry red against my pale skin.
Deep, jagged lacerations crisscrossed with perfectly circular burn marks covering every inch of my forearm.
It looked like a battlefield detailing years of systematic torture.
Dan didn’t gasp or look away in disgust.
He simply stared at my arm with his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked frantically in his cheek.
He pushed off the desk and closed the distance between us.
I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting him to mock me or turn away.
Instead, I felt the incredibly gentle, calloused touch of his fingers ghosting over the worst of the scars near my wrist.
He barely touched my skin.
He treated my arm as if it were made of fragile glass.
He stated that they were cigar burns.
His voice was devoid of all emotion, which somehow made it infinitely more terrifying.
He noted the blade marks came from a letter opener.
My eyes snapped open in shock as I asked how he knew that.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, replacing his coldness with a raging, unholy inferno.
He softly explained that he knew the man who smoked those specific cigars.
He told me that Tyler Robinson washed his money.
My blood ran cold.
The dangerous man standing in front of me worked closely with the monster who ruined my life.
I snatched my arm back, a sob catching in my throat as I prepared to bolt for the door.
Dan reached out and caught my uninjured arm, holding me firmly but gently in place.
He leaned in so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.
He whispered that Tyler washed his money, but as of ten seconds ago, Tyler was a dead man walking.
He slowly pulled my velvet sleeve back down to cover my scars.
His knuckles gently brushed against my skin.
He promised that by the time he was done with my family, they would wish they had never heard our last name.
The promise of violence hung in the library air like the smell of a storm right before lightning strikes.
I stared at him while my chest heaved.
For seven years, I had been told to be quiet and hide the gruesome canvas my ex-fiancé made of my skin.
Now, the most dangerous man in the city was standing inches from me, declaring war on my behalf.
I breathed out that he couldn’t touch Tyler because the Robinson family owned judges and politicians.
Dan let out a low, humorless chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes.
He said a war implies two equal sides.
He pulled his phone from his inner suit pocket, tapped a single button, and brought it to his ear.
He ordered his driver to bring the car to the east service exit.
He hung up and told me to come with him anywhere but here.
He warned me that if I walked back into that ballroom, my father would sell me to the highest bidder.
He swore on his life that if I walked out that door with him, no one would ever lay a hand on me again.
It was the first time in my life anyone had offered me a choice that didn’t feel like a trap.
I looked at the outstretched hand of the mafia boss.
I bypassed his hand, walked past him, and reached for the brass doorknob.
We walked out of the library and straight through the grand foyer.
My father spotted us and scurried across the marble floor with my mother trailing behind.
Craig nervously asked if taking me off his hands for the evening secured his bailout.
Dan stepped squarely in front of me, shielding me from my father’s view.
He smoothly informed Craig that the company was insolvent and his syndicate would initiate a hostile takeover by morning.
He told my father he wasn’t getting a bailout; he was getting liquidated.
Craig’s face drained of all color as he realized he had lost everything.
Dan guided me out into the sweltering night and into a waiting armored Maybach.
I was finally free of my family, but what exactly did a ruthless syndicate boss want with a broken girl like me?
