Stealing Valentine

“I already told you,” I mutter.

“Ahh, yes, that you just happened to be in the study when that asshole came by to steal my fucking diamonds, and he just decided to kidnap you too?”

He sneers the words out sarcastically, but I ignore him, turning to glare at the floor. I’m torn. Part of me—well, no, most of me—wants to tell him everything. That I fell for the thief—that Dutch didn’t just steal his jewels, he stole my heart. Stole, or maybe that I gave it to him willingly. I want to stand up and shout the I love him.

But, I don’t. It’s not that I’m ashamed. Hell no. And it’s not that I have doubts, because I sure as hell don’t. It’s because even though I want to just yell out the truth, I know hanging on to this little lie is my best shot of getting back to the man I love. Pretending I’m the victim here buys me time to figure out what to do.

“Marty, honey,” Diana stands, forcing a smile to her face as she approached my father. “She’s been through a lot, dear. Now, she obviously didn’t have anything to do with that monster taking your—”

“Oh what the fuck do you know,” dad snaps, whirling and glaring at his wife. I frown as I watch Diana clam up and back away, and I shake my head. She means so well, and she deserves so much better than an asshole like my dad.

My father knocks back the rest of his glass and slams it onto the mantle above the fireplace.

“I’ll figure out the truth soon enough,” he spits. “But for now, at least the damage has been mitigated.” He sighs. “At least we got the Whistler pieces back.”

Diana’s eyes dart to mine, her face falling in sadness, but I just shake my head.

“And, uh, me? Are you glad you got me back?”

He turns, and it really doesn’t matter what he says, because the silence goes long enough that I already know what comes next will be a lie. I’m not at all surprised either.

“Of course,” he mutters gruffly. “And you. Right.”

He storms over to his bar cart and pours himself another splash of scotch. I just shake my head. I’ve never been welcome here. Ever. And Martin being my biological father hasn’t ever made me feel like we’re family anyways. So I’m not hurt. I’m not surprised. I’m just… I don’t know.

I’m missing Dutch is what I am.

I’m missing being in the arms of the man who loves me—the one person who’s ever truly seen the real me, and who’s ever let me inside. He’s my family. He’s my heart. And being this far apart from my heart has me feeling cold, and empty.

Of course, knowing that my father has the fake diamonds brings some joy to me. I’m hiding the smile of course, but knowing that someday he’ll know he’s been royally fucked has me giggling inside. For a second, doubt rears its head, and the dark part of my heart suddenly wonders if—or why Dutch would wait for me, or try and get me back. Why, when he’s sitting back there with a quarter of a billion dollars’ worth of diamonds?

I mean, a man like that? I must be one of a million girls he’s stolen away into bed.

I look down, and slowly, even though I try to keep them at bay, tears brim my eyes. A hand on my shoulder has me yanking my head up, and when I realize it’s Diana, who’s come over to comfort me, I smile sadly. She and I have never gotten close, but really, she deserves to much more than this.

“C’mere, honey,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight. She’s been looking at me like I’m some sort of crime victim, after my father made a point of mentioning how he found me with a basically naked Dutch. But now, as the tears brim in my eyes, and as my heart aches for the man I was pulled away from, it’s almost like she’s looking at me differently.

“There, there,” she says, quietly, but loud enough for my father to see. He rolls his eyes, snorting and turning away as he yanks out his phone and starts barking orders to some of his subordinates. Diana glances at him and then turns back to me, her eyes softening as she hugs me tight.

“You’ll get back to him,” she whispers.

I pull away, surprised, my brow shooting up. But she just smiles warmly, pressing a finger to her lips.

“I was young once too, you know,” she winks, darting a look at my dad’s back. “And I know that look I see all over your face. This man… well,” she smiles. “Don’t let anyone tell you who you shouldn’t love, sweetheart.”