"She could have told me."
"Would you have listened?"
He sighs heavily, which is answer enough.
"She loves you," I remind him.
"My men follow you too," he says, almost as if he expects me to be shocked or pissed about it. "They have for the last year. It's the only reason I haven't lost my mind worrying about you."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Mmhmm."
"You're not pissed?"
"I was," I admit. "When I first figured it out, I was furious. But it felt…good to know someone cared enough to want me to be safe. No one else did."
"Your staff loves you, baby girl."
"Maybe, but they're paid to care," I murmur. It's not cynical when it's true. My dad pays Betsy and Jude, our cook and the groundskeeper, to care about me because he can't be bothered to do it himself. If something were to happen to me, they might be sad for a little while, but they'd move on like nothing ever happened. "I'm replaceable. For my dad, all it takes is a little tequila and a nice pair of tits, and I'm forgotten."
"Your father is a fucking idiot," Justice growls.
"Yeah, he is," I agree with a sigh. "But honestly? I'd rather not have him at all than to have him drinking his life away right in front of me. At least this way, I don't have to watch it happen."
Justice runs his hand down my back as if to soothe me. I settle in against him, letting his smoky amber scent lull me toward sleep again. Right when I'm on the edge, I hear him whisper, "No one could ever replace you for me, pretty baby. Not ever."
I believe him.