Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“Yes. A sparkling legacy of false glow, fake friends, and the tears of your daughters who would give anything to be regarded as something other than pawns in games of power.” I reach out and take his hand. “You should always be a safe harbor for me and Zara. We need a father. Not a don.”

His brows draw together, and a haunted look enters his eyes. “I tried my best, Nera. I made sure you had everything you ever wished for. Whenever you or your sister liked something, I bought it for you.”

“You gave Zara a golden necklace for her eighteenth birthday.”

“The one with the diamonds that she saw at the mall. She stood in front of the display and looked at it for more than ten minutes. I didn’t even care about the price.”

“She can’t wear it, Dad.” I squeeze his hand. “Zara gets a rash from wearing most jewelry. The necklace has been sittingin a box on her vanity, like a pretty sparkling reminder that her father somehow forgot that little detail about her life.”

The color completely drains from my father’s face, and he rears back as if I hit him.

“I did forget,” he chokes out. “How could I have forgotten something like that?”

“Because you’ve spent years being surrounded by people who always tapped you on the back and congratulated you, no matter what you did. So you just stopped thinking about how your actions impact others.”

My father looks away, his gaze distant as he stares somewhere beyond the window.

“When you lose someone you love, it kills something inside you, you know?” He sighs. “I lost your mother. Elmo. And then, Laura. It was . . . too much.”

“I know. We lost them, too.”

He looks down at me, and I can almost see the man who loved giving me and my sister piggyback rides through the house.

“I don’t want to lose you, too.” He lifts his hand and strokes my cheek. “I’ll tell Alvino that my daughter is no longer an option open for discussion.”

“Will he make problems for you?”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll handle my own mess.” He bends and places a kiss on my head. “I’ll be seeing you at my party next weekend?”

“Of course, Dad.”

“Good. Now, go to the dining room. Zara is probably waiting for us.”

“Thank you.”

I’m halfway across the room when I hear his voice behind me. “I’m so glad you’ll never have to be in my place.”

“Me too.”

* * *

“Are you still seeing that stalker of yours, Nera?”

I sprawl on Zara’s bed and rest my head on my crossed arms. My sister and I have never kept things from each other, but when it comes to my demon, I don’t like volunteering information. Maybe because I don’t think she’d understand. Or maybe I’m just selfish.

“So?” she prods.

“We had dinner at my place two weeks ago.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s quite a development,” she mumbles around the pins held between her lips, then sends me a pointed look. “Considering you still don’t know the man’s name.”

I shrug. He’s my demon. I’m his cub. I don’t need his name.

“What did you make?”

“Ravioli with cheese.” I bite my lip. “It wasn’t actually planned, or I would have cooked something more appealing. I prepared dinner for myself, but when I looked out the window, I noticed him across the street.”

Zara lowers the pattern piece she’s pinning to the fabric. “You and your stalker guy have the weirdest relationship I’ve ever heard of. How long has it been going on, this bizarre thing you two have? Six months?”