NOW

Katia

Bang, bang, bang.

I groan and roll, flickering my eyes open. What the hell? There’s a loud pounding at the door. Shifting my body, I feel I’m alone. Yet again. Marcus fucked me, oh God did he fuck me. Then, as always, he left me alone when I fell asleep. I refuse to analyze that right now. I’m more concerned about the banging at the door.

No one comes to the front door, so it’s strange, especially at this time of the morning. With a groan, I throw myself out of the bed. I run my fingers through my hair then I throw it up with a clip before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long, baggy t-shirt. Then I stalk out of the room, mumbling about the time of the morning and my lack of coffee.

When I reach the front door, I rub my eyes and then swing the door open. There’s a good-looking man standing there, and as I take him in, he seems familiar some how. He’s tall, super tall. He’s got dark hair that curls around his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes.

His skin is a beautiful olive and overall he’s quite handsome. Older, but handsome. Without a doubt. Something strange nags at my chest. It’s like I’ve met him before. Maybe he’s been into the office. I’m not sure, but there’s something about him...

“Is Marcus here?” he barks, cutting off my thoughts.

“Pardon?” I say.

Jesus, someone is rude.

“I said,” he growls, glaring past me. “Is Marcus here?”

“And you are...”

“The name is Pierre.”

My entire world stands still and everything falls into place. The reason I’ve seen him before, the reason he looks so fucking familiar is because he’s my Father. I may not know a lot about him, but I know his name. It’s the one thing my mother gave me. That and an old photo. He was younger then, but now I picture it in my mind, I realize it’s where I’ve seen him.

My hands begin to shake and my knees tremble to the point I’m forced to grip the doorframe to steady myself.

My father.

Here in front of me.

I don’t...I don’t understand.

“I...”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf?” he barks.

His voice...so deep, so thick. Not exactly a father like voice. No, it’s very masculine, very authoritive.

I can’t believe it’s him. Does he know about me? Does he even know he has a daughter? I want my voice to come out but it won’t. It’s gone. I’m empty. I can’t speak. Emotions swirl through my body, so many questions come to my mind but the thing that gets me the most is the burning curiosity about the man in front of me.

I came from him...

“I...”

“Jesus, tell Marcus he has a guest, will you?”

I blink at him.

He hasn’t really studied me, not a lot. His eyes have barely landed on mine, because they’re darting behind me, from side to side, and basically scanning the perimeter. When I still don’t answer his question, he finally looks at me and his eyes scan over my face and he freezes. His entire body jerks and he goes so still I’m worried he’s about to have some sort of panic attack.

I know it’s because he can see her. I look so much like my mother, there’s no denying that. I thought it was always her I got 100% of my features from, but now I’m studying him, up close, there’s so much about me that’s like him, too.

“I’ll,” I swallow. “Get him.”

I turn, with trembling legs and hurry back into the house.

“Wait!”

Shit. He can see it, too.

I keep rushing.

“I said,” he growls, rushing in and taking hold of my arm. “Wait.”

He spins me around and I gasp, struggling backwards.

“I don’t...understand?” he breathes. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I don’t know you. Please, let me go.”

It’s such a lie, I don’t even know why I said it, but suddenly I’m panicked. My father is in front of me. My father. How the hell am I supposed to understand it, let alone deal with it? His eyes flash at my words and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. 

“Who is your mother?”

Oh shit.

“Marcus?” I cry, angrily.

“Answer me, girl.”

“Please,” I whimper. 

“It’s Sandra, isn’t it?”

“Stop, oh God,” I cry. “Marcus!”

“How old are you?”

I jerk my arm from his grip and we stand there, staring at each other. I can tell by his face this has come as a shock to him. A huge shock. His eyes are frantically scanning over my face and his breathing is deep and trembling. He can see it; I know he can because I do. My skin. The shape of my eyes. Even my nose. It’s all his.

“It can’t be true,” he whispers.

Tears burn under my eyelids. It’s my dad. My dad...

“It’s why she ran, isn’t it?”

He really didn’t know about me. Oh God.

“I didn’t know.”

Double oh God.

My chest seizes.

“I didn’t fucking know,” he whispers.

I don’t have time to process his words. My heart is aching and tears are burning my eyes. Suddenly my father is in front of me. Yesterday I didn’t even know him. I didn’t know he lived close by, let alone knew my husband.

I try to push the fact out of my brain that Marcus knows this man because it makes fear and slight rage burn in my belly. Is that why he’s married to me? Does it have something to do with my father?

“What’s your name?” he murmurs, low.

“Katia, what’s going on?”

I hear Marcus’ voice invading the space like a whip and I spin to see him standing in the doorway in his running clothes. I back towards him, but stop suddenly when I realize this is quite possibly why he’s with me. I glance back at my father, who is watching Marcus now with a hard expression. A hand curls around my arm and Marcus hauls me back.

“Let me go, Marcus,” I whisper.

“Do you know who that man is?” he growls in my ear.

“Yeah, my Father.”

He flinches and breathes, “What?”

He doesn’t know? He had to know. How could he not know?

“Marcus, let her fuckin’ go,” My father breathes, low.

“Why the fuck are you in my house, Pierre?”

Oh God.

“Why the fuck have you got that girl?”

“This girl,” Marcus hisses. “Is my wife.”

I don’t understand what’s happening.

“What?” Pierre growls. “You fuckin’ piece of-”

“Why the fuck are you in my house?” Marcus roars.

I flinch and try to jerk my arm out of his, but he won’t let me go. He pulls me tighter against him, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“I’m in your house,” Pierre hisses, low. “To warn you to back the fuck off my operations.”

What?

“You’re signing a fuckin’ death warrant if you think you can come in here and tell me what to do,” Marcus snarls.

Oh God.

“That fuckin’ job was mine. You and your men came in and fucked it. I don’t take kindly to people fucking around with my jobs. I kill for less, Marcus.”

Kill.

My mind begins to swim and suddenly, I can’t feel my legs. I collapse, and Marcus’ arm tightens around me just before I pass out completely.

~*~*~*~

MARCUS

Katia goes limp in my arms. Fuck me. I slowly lower her to the ground, and she goes without even a flinch. I look up at her father, fuck, her father, and glare. “Why the fuck are you comin’ into my home, pissin’ my wife off, and demanding shit that you don’t have a right to demand?”

He’s staring at Katia. His face is blank, but there’s emotion in his eyes. Deep emotion. He didn’t fuckin’ know about her—fuck. Slowly he lifts his eyes to me. “You fucked with my business, my men and my trade, Tandem. I don’t play fuckin’ nice with bastards who mess with my shit.”

“And what I don’t play fuckin’ nice with, is men like you,” I snarl, stepping over Katia and charging towards him.

In a split second, he lifts a gun and points it at me. Motherfucker.

“Is that my fuckin’ daughter?” he barks.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“What’s her mother’s name?”

“Sandra Bennett.”

His face flashes. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Put your fuckin’ gun down, or so help me—”

“Why are you married to my daughter?”

I snort. “With all due respect, Pierre, you didn’t know she was your daughter until five minutes ago. You don’t get to know shit.”

His eyes flick to her, then to me. “I’m not going to kill you here, because I want to know her.” He waves his gun at Katia. “But let me warn you, Marcus. Your boys don’t get out of my business, I’ll bring you down, married to my daughter or not.”

“Is that a threat?” I hiss.

He tucks his gun in his pants, looks at Katia once more and growls, “It’s a promise.”

Then he turns and leaves.

I spin to Katia, lean down and lift her over my shoulder before charging into the offices. Candy, her noisy, babble-mouthed friend sees her thrown over my shoulder and starts chasing me, crying out and talking fucking shit. I spin to her with a glare. “Candice,” I spit. “She just had her father come to the door. Shit is bad. I got a call to make. Stay the fuck outta my way.”

Then I step into my office, throw Katia onto the couch and lift my phone. I dial.

“Boss?”

“Ulio, I just had Pierre at my fuckin’ door.”

“What?” he snarls. “Why the fuck did that fucker come to your house?”

“He wants me out of the picture, and he’s a big player in that picture. He’s got the resources to be a threat.”

“Then we fuckin’ eliminate him.”

I exhale loudly. “Except he’s my wife’s father.”

Silence.

“What did you fuckin’ say?”

“You heard me.”

“Is she in on this?”

I glance at Katia. “Considerin’ she’s passed out on my couch from shock at seeing him for the first time, I’m gonna go with no.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“In a world of shit.”

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“Give me time to process this shit, and then I’ll get back to you.”

“No problems, boss.”

I hang up the phone just as Katia stirs. Her eyes flicker open and point directly towards me and I can see her hurt.

Shit.