Page 132 of Vicious Kingdom

Annaliese recoiled. “That’s a designer label.”

“And if you think for one second it’s too fucking good for your tears and nose, you’re crazy,” I countered.

The intention was sweet, but she only cried harder.

“There, there,” I muttered, not knowing what the hell to say. I dabbed at her cheeks and bent the sleeve for her nose. “Be a good girl and blow.”

She struggled away, and the look in her eye said I was crazy. I probably was.

I wrestled her into my arms, being as gentle as possible, then put the jacket to her nose again. When she realized resistance was futile, she blew.

“There you go. Feel better?” I pressed a kiss on her forehead.

She stilled, frozen in indecision.

Then in a brilliant flash, she turned into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and clutching me tight, and she sobbed into my shoulder.

She chose me. Chose me to comfort her through this struggle.

I held her close, feeling the wetness of her tears soak through the thin dress shirt. Settling on my butt, I drew her onto my lap.

“When you’re ready, you’re going to tell me what happened, okay?” I stroked her hair. “I can take it, Anna.”

She whimpered, the sound so lost and forlorn, but she nodded.

I continued to stroke her, and I fought the mental suggestions, each a more terrible explanation for what happened than the next.

“He’s dead.”

The words were so soft, if they hadn’t been spoken damn near in my ear, I would have missed it.

Up and down, I stroked her spine. “Who, precious? Who’s dead?”

“My dad.”

Vertigo tricked me with the next rush of wind. The building seemed to tip and sway beneath us. I clutched her tighter.

“Your…dad?”

Annaliese nodded. “It was horrible. I found him dead—at his office.”

“Who would—” I stopped myself. She didn’t need problem solving. She needed comfort.

I picked her up as she began to rattle out words. From the garbled, unconnected thoughts, I began to piece together the story. By the time I set her on the counter in the kitchen and poured her a glass of water, she seemed…defeated.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she murmured.

How could she even ask that?

Because, you idiot, she expects you to be cruel.

“Annaliese, I need you to listen and listen close. When you hurt, I hurt. When you’re bursting with joy, it’s infectious, and I’ll gladly catch the disease. When you’re tired, you lay with me. If you’re hungry, I feed you. That’s how this—” I gestured between us “—works. And I’m so sorry I’ve been fighting it. That won’t happen again.”

“But don’t you get it, Leo? Dad is dead. You’re free.”

Her words cut deep, scathing knife strokes to my chest. I clutched her to me, the water tipping and spilling on us both.

“Fine, the blackmail is pointless, but I’m not letting you go.”