03

“King would not like it.” Oh.

So it is back to my dad again.

Seems I am out for blood, though, because I still refuse to drop it. “How about you?”

“How about me?”

“Would you like it if I had a boyfriend?”

He pauses, then says, “I would be neutral.”

Right.

Of course, he would.

Why would the king of the jungle look in the direction of a stray cub when he has countless lionesses by his side?

The breaking sound in my chest that I felt when I thought he did not show up returns and I dig the edge of my phone into my ribcage as I struggle to maintain a neutral façade.

This would be the perfect time for me to stuff myself with some vanilla ice cream or a milkshake while I hide in the closet.

“Happy birthday, Genevieve.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a small blue box and tosses it my way.

I let the phone fall to my lap so I can catch it. Receiving a gift from him is almost enough to make me forget about his words. About the apathy everyone in the media talks about.

Almost.

“Can I open it?”

“Sure.”

I did not even open my other presents, but the ones that I have from Dan are always first on my list. In the past, he’s always gotten me toys and books. This is not the packaging of either of those.

Inside, I find a gold link bracelet with a scale charm hanging from the chain. I let it dangle between my fingers and smile. “It is so beautiful.”

“My assistant picked it out.”

I drag my gaze from the bracelet to him.

He’s letting me know that he would never pick something like this for me, but whatever, he’s the one who bought it and that is all that matters.

“It is still beautiful. Thank you.” “King said you want to study law.”

“Yeah. He’s my role model.” And you.

I do not say that, though, because in some way, it feels like he’s put up walls in the span of seconds. The tightening in his jaw and face scare me.

But apparently, they do not scare me enough, because I blurt out, “Can you help me put it on?”

“No.”

It is a point-blank refusal that makes me wince. Usually, he does not refuse my requests, not that I make them often. Even though I have known Dan all my life, I was always intimidated by him one way or another.

Like people are intimidated by my dad, I guess.

“Why not?”

“You can do it on your own.” His expression closes and I know he’s done with any type of conversation and will leave, shutting all the doors in my face.

And if he goes, my plan for today will be an epic failure.

If he goes, I will have nothing.

He still does not see me as an adult. He still thinks I am a kid, and if I do not do something about it, that will never change.

If I do not do something about it, I know, I just know that I will regret it for the rest of my life.

So I gather the remnants of my courage and let my phone and the box fall to the swing as I stand up.

Thanks to Dad’s genes, I am not short by any means, but I still barely reach Dan’s shoulders, even with heels on. Oh, and I am so tiny compared to his broad build and mass of toned muscles.

But I do not let that stop me and I step closer until my heaving breasts nearly graze his chest. Until the fabric of my dress is mere inches away from his tailored jacket.

It is not the first time I have been this close to him, but it is the first time under these new circumstances and in the midst of all the zaps and jolts and dreams that he’s always the main character of.

Dreams that leave me soaked and aching for a single touch.

“What do you think you are doing?” His voice is as stiff as his body, but he does not step back or push me away.

He remains there like a sturdy wall that I always want to climb.

“Can not you help me put the bracelet on?”

“I said no.”

“What’s wrong with doing it?” I pause at my own words.

Doing it.

Me and Dan.

Dan and me doing it.

Shit. I need to rinse my mind with bleach and hope all the dirty thoughts disappear.

“Go back to your party, Genevieve.”

I twist my lips in disapproval. He never calls me by the nickname everyone uses for me, and I hate it.

Genevieve sounds impersonal and detached.

Putting distance between us is the last thing I want, so I push my body forward, toying with an invisible line where his world is separated from mine.

I am crushing that line, decimating it, burning it to ashes.

Because I am an adult now and I can do that.

“I want to be right here, Dan.”

His thick brows dip in the middle. “What did you just call me?”

“Dan,” I say, lower this time, a little bit uncertain, a little bit scared. Because, holy shit, his deep, rough voice and the tightness in his body can be terrifying.

My thoughts are confirmed when he says firmly, with an authoritativeness that strikes me straight in my bones, “It is Uncle Dan.”

“I do not want to call you that anymore.”

“It is not up to you to decide. It is Uncle Dan, got it?”

I swallow at his non-negotiable tone and the firm edge to it. No wonder he’s a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. If I were a criminal, I would be on my knees right now.

Hell, I would be on my knees even without the criminal part.

“Answer me, Genevieve.”

“Yeah. Okay. Got it.”

He narrows his eyes at that and I know he hates it, my using two or three different terms for the same thing. He told me so once, to measure my words before letting them loose, but I am not as disciplined or as assertive as he is. Never was and probably never will be.

But a part of me longs to be, because if I am, he’ll see me as a woman, not a kid.

A woman.

But instead of commenting on my words, he says, “Now go back to your birthday party.”

“I do not want to.”

“Genevieve,” he warns.

“I want a birthday present.”

“I already gave you one.”

“The bracelet does not count, because it was picked out by your assistant.” I do not actually think that at all, but he does not need to know that.

He releases a breath. “What do you want?”

“Can I have anything?”

“Within reason.”

“You told me once that reason is subjective. That means what you see as reason is entirely different from what I do.”

“Correct.”

“Then do not say I acted unreasonably, okay?”

Before he can form thoughts or theories, I grab the lapel of his jacket, flatten my breasts against his chest, and get on my tiptoes.

The moment my lips touch his, I think I have reached another level of existence—one I had no idea existed. They are so soft and warm but have an underlying hardness like the rest of him.

I move my mouth against his closed one and even dart my tongue out to lick his lower lip. It is hesitant and awkward at best, but I do not stop.

I can not.

God. He tastes even better than my forbidden fantasies.

He does not open his mouth or kiss me back, and his entire body turns to granite against mine.

Since I have witnessed him box with Dad countless times, I know he has a body of steel, but actually feeling his abs contracting against me is an experience all on its own.

If I could stay here for a lifetime, I would choose to in a heartbeat.

Hell, I am ready to accept the inevitable bursts of emptiness if it means I get to live this moment over and over again. If I get to exist here for whatever remaining years I have to live.

However, my small moment of ecstasy is brought to a halt when I am pulled back by a fistful of my hair.

I tilt my head back to keep it from pulling as I stare at his harsh eyes. There is a savage darkness in them that matches the tightness of his fingers in my hair. It is a black, deep current and I am trapped right in the middle of it.

“Do not ever do that again. Understood?”

My lips tremble and I can not help licking them—and his taste. Dan’s eyes zero in on the gesture and a muscle tightens in his solid jaw. It is such a small movement, but it feels so huge right now, so important.

“Say you understand, Genevieve,” he says, still staring at my lips before he slides his gaze to my mismatched eyes.

“I-I understand.”

If I expected those words to placate him, they do not. His jaw flexes one more time and he shoves me away, releasing his firm, delicious hold on my hair.

He shakes his head at me once, then turns around and leaves. His strides are long and sure, but there is something different this time; like the tension in his shoulders.

I watch his back, licking my lips and fingering the bracelet, and a tear slides down my cheek as I murmur,

“Happy birthday to me.”