Anthony's POV
—
Alicia ended her call, and I ignored the soft scrape of her feet as she headed into her room.
I had overheard her conversation—heard the way her voice cracked. Whatever it was, it had to be something from her past. Maybe a reminder of what her life used to be.
I tried not to think about it, but every time I visited that place, of what she had endured, my hands clenched—itching to grab something. To grip his throat.
But he was her father.
I couldn't hurt him, no matter how much I wanted to. So the only thing I could do was keep him away from her. At all costs.Because now, she was my responsibility.
I wanted to go to her.
But I knew she needed this moment alone.
That was why she hadn't come back to the kitchen.
I carried the dishes to the sink, muttering under my breath, "Guess I'll take care of this myself."
Not like I brought her here to do the dishes anyway.
I just... wanted her presence with me.
"Oh, you won't be doing that, Tony."
