Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(76)

“Well, that was not what I expected,” Mom says as the elevator doors slide shut. “He’s… interesting, this Peter of yours.”

I grin at her. “You mean, gorgeous and domesticated? Yes, I agree.”

Dad snorts. “If that man is domesticated, I’ll eat my foot. A savage, that one. Without a doubt.”

“Chuck!” Mom frowns at him.

“Didn’t you see the way he looked at her?” Dad retorts as the elevator doors open on the first floor. “I’m surprised he didn’t club her over the head and drag her off to bed in front of us.”

“Dad, please.” The blush that had just left my face returns, magnified tenfold. “That’s not—”

“Well, of course I saw that,” Mom says as though I’m not there. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though.”

“It is when you are dealing with a man like that.” Dad glances over his shoulder, as though Peter might be listening—which, knowing his stalker tendencies, he might very well be.

For all I know, there are already cameras in the building and who-knows-what planted on me.

“I don’t think he’s as bad as that,” Mom says as we pass a couple of neighbors in the lobby. “I mean, yes, he’s not your average Joe or Harry, but—”

“He’s dangerous,” Dad says flatly. “Don’t fool yourself. Just because the man wants a family doesn’t mean he’s not capable of things that would make your eyelashes curl. What he’s told us today is just the tip of the iceberg, believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Mom says as we exit into the parking lot. “But I think he does love her, and if all those problems with the FBI are really over—”

“Maybe you guys want to wait two minutes, so you can discuss me in third person when I’m not there?” I suggest, trailing behind them. “Otherwise, I can head back up and—”

“No, no, darling.” Mom stops and turns around, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry, we’re just trying to come to terms with it all, you understand.”

“I do, Mom.” I smile and lean in to kiss her soft cheek. “I was just kidding. I know this will take some adjustment.”

“Sara, darling.” Dad touches my shoulder, and when I face him, he says quietly, “Just promise us one thing.”

“What is it?”

“If he ever hurts you, or scares you, or does anything else that worries you, come to us. Don’t hide it or try to deal with it on your own, okay?” Dad’s gaze is as hard as I’ve ever seen it. “I know you’re in love with this man—I see it—but tigers don’t change their stripes. He’s dangerous. Maybe not to you, but to everyone else. I see it in his eyes.”

“Dad—”

“No, listen to me, Sara. Even if he doesn’t bring the horrors of his past into your life—something I doubt very much—he’s not going to be like George, content to remain on the fringes of your life. He’s not that kind of man, you understand?”

“I do.” I understand better than my dad can imagine, because I know exactly what kind of man Peter is. With George, even when I was part of a couple, I was able to remain my own person, to maintain that little bit of mental distance necessary to protect myself. But Peter is too dominating, too controlling to allow that. I’m going to be his in every sense of the word, and my dad intuitively grasps that.

“Chuck.” Mom lays her hand on Dad’s arm. “Come. We should go.”

“Promise me,” Dad insists, not budging, so I nod and smile.

“I promise, Dad. If anything happens, I’ll come to you.”

Dad nods, satisfied, and we walk together to their car. As I kiss and hug them goodbye, I notice Danny still sitting in his dark car, and I smile, looking up at the lit-up window of my kitchen.

For all their warnings and admonishments, my parents have no idea just how dangerous and controlling my fiancé truly is. I lied when I made that promise to Dad. There’s no way I can come to them with Peter-related concerns because there’s nothing they, or anyone, can do.

The monster I’ve grown to love is in my life for good, and I have to figure out how to live with him.





58





Sara



I go to work on Friday as usual, but I end up spending every minute between patients fielding my coworkers’ questions about my upcoming wedding. To avoid sounding as ignorant about the event as I actually am, I tell them we want the details to be a surprise and leave it at that.

They’ll see the flowers, the cake, and the dress tomorrow.

My parents keep calling as well, asking about all sorts of minutiae that I can’t answer. I give them Peter’s number, as he’s the official wedding planner, but my mom still calls every hour with some kind of question or concern. I suspect it’s because they’re afraid I’ll disappear again, so I try to be patient, but by the fifth call, it’s all I can do to bring myself to pick up the phone and explain yet again that I have no clue if there will be chairs or benches at the ceremony.

It’s a busy day at work, too, with a twin-pregnancy C-section scheduled this afternoon, which means I barely have time to get lunch before I have to head over to the hospital to perform the procedure. To speed up matters, I grab a sandwich from a convenience store and consume it in the car.