Page 59 of The Beast

“Bella is⁠—”

“Not your concern.” Father steps closer, and I see the calculation in his eyes. He’s assessing David. Deciding how much of a threat he poses. “You may technically be her fiancé, but you’re not yet her husband. All you are right now is a guest in my hotel. Don’t make me reconsider my hospitality.”

David’s jaw tightens, a war playing out on his face—the desire to protect me versus the knowledge that escalating this will only make things worse.

I catch his eye and shake my head slightly. Whatever this is, it’ll be worse if he stays. My father doesn’t like being challenged, especially not in front of witnesses. If David pushes, Father will push back harder. And the person who pays the price will be me.

That’s always how it works.

David hesitates, every line of his body rigid with reluctance. Harper is already gathering her things.

“We’ll be in the bedroom,” David finally says, the words clearly meant for my father as much as for me.

Father doesn’t even acknowledge him. Just stands there radiating fury, eyes fixed on me until the door clicks shut. For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stare at each other across the sun-drenched room—father and daughter, predator and prey. I can hear my own heartbeat, loud and fast.

Then he breaks the silence. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice is low. Almost a hiss.

I stay seated. Force myself to take a calm sip of coffee, even though my hands want to shake. “Good morning to you, too, Father.”

“Don’t.” He stalks toward the table, plants his hands on the surface, and looms over me, getting so into my face I can see the broken capillaries in his cheeks. He looks older than he did a week ago. Older and meaner.

“Gaming commission investigations,” he says. “Twelve Hart properties over three continents, including the Monarch. Do you have any idea how much money this is going to cost us? How much damage control?”

“It’s going to be a nightmare, of course. But I’ve got a handle on the Monarch. It’s my responsibility now, not yours.

“Goddammit, you little bitch.”

“I didn’t file the damn complaints,” I snap, the outburst surprising both me and my father.

For a moment, he’s speechless. I think that may actually be a first. “No,” he says, his voice so low that tiny word sounds like a threat. Your psychotic ex-boyfriend did. The one holed up in a pathetic hotel. The one you’ve been sneaking off to see.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business.” He straightens, starts pacing. “I’ve spent decades building this empire. Protecting this family. And you’re going to let some dead man walk back in and destroy everything because you can’t keep your legs closed?”

The crudeness shocks me, even from him. “That’s none of your business.”

“I don’t care what it is or isn’t.” He wheels on me, and I flinch before I can stop myself. I see him register the reaction. And I see the flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

He likes that I’m afraid. He’s always liked it. Not for the first time, I think about what my mother must have endured. I think the cancer that killed her when I was a toddler was probably sweet relief.

“You’re going to fix this,” he continues. “The gaming commission complaints need to go away. The merger needs to stay on track—if that falls through because of your lover’s vendetta, we lose everything.”

He takes a breath. “Most of all, Gabriel Grimm needs to disappear back into whatever hole he crawled out of.”

“Or what?”

The question surprises us both. I’m not sure I’ve ever challenged him so directly.

My father goes very still. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“You ungrateful little bitch.”

“What did you do to him?” The words come out sharp. Fierce. I push back from the table and stand. “Five years ago. In Aspen. What really happened?”

Something flickers in my father’s eyes. Just for a second. A crack in the mask. And that tells me everything.