I stared at him, tears pricking my yes. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be like you. It’s funny, because it was the last thing on earth you wanted.”
“You’re not like me, Nyla. You’re like—” He cut himself off and sighed. “I’m cut out for the politics. You're not.”
“I’m your daughter. How can you do this?”
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but this is for the best.”
“For who? Me or you?”
“Nyla—”
I stood and reached into my back pocket for my badge. “Here you go. Are you happy?”
“Of course not, Nyla. You’ll receive your salary while your suspension is pending final review.”
“Whatever. Are we done?”
“Nyla—” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I just turned and strode out, my vision going fuzzy from the tears.
22 East
When I knocked at Nyla's door and she answered it, I knew something was wrong. Instead of her usually sleek waves, or any kind of style, her hair hung in a scraggly mess, though it looked quite a bit more full than normal, and she spent a lot of time running her hand through it. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy. Her skin was blotchy, and she was holding a half empty bottle of Rosé. She was also wearing a T-shirt that read I cannot quit, as I am currently too legit and a pair of gray joggers.
"Well, I guess we won't be needing this." I held up the bottle of wine I’d brought.
"Oh, we will. Because this one is for me, and I'll finish it, and then I’ll help you finish that one."
Her words were slightly slurred, and I followed her into her townhouse. I'd seen it numerous times from a different angle. But somehow, from the inside, it was cozier, warmer. I closed the door behind me and locked it. Then I set the wine on the counter, sliding off my jumper and hanging it on the back of one of the stools at her island in the kitchen.
She shrugged. "I will probably have to vacate this place, as I was suspended today."
My brows popped upward. "What?"
"You see, dear old Dad suspended me indefinitely. Apparently, Denning has been busy writing me up. Meanwhile Denning only got a two-week paid administrative leave."
I blinked rapidly as I joined her in the living room. “We can fight it. We will fight it." And I was serious. I planned to show a history of stalking. If I only got one burn in life, I was more than happy to use it for Nyla.
“Denning says I’ve been in subordinate. And basically this is happening because they can’t control me. I’m a damn good agent.”
“I know, darling. I know.” I sighed and then slid down onto the floor next to her. She dropped her head onto her knees and started sobbing. Fuck. Tears. I was never good with tears. I didn't really know what to do with them. All I knew to do was offer physical comfort, and I wasn't sure she was going to want that. But still, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and tucked her into my side, because all I wanted to do was protect her and make everything better for her.
"Your instincts led you exactly where you were supposed to be."
"Yeah, that's just it. He says I'm too temperamental. I follow my feelings too much. Oh, and I'm too cocky. But here's the funny thing; he would never say that to a man."
It was my automatic response to frown. And I wanted to say, ’No, Nyla. He's your father. He would never say that.' But I realized that was at the base of the misogyny that permeated so much. "You think that's what's going on here?"
"Patriarchy. Misogyny, yup. Absolutely. I knew Denning stole my job. I just didn’t know that he hated me that much or that Dad would believe him so blindly.”
Fury boiled under my skin. Roger Kincade and I had come to an agreement. He, of course, knew about the Elite. He knew what was required of him. And he knew enough to back off from the London Lords. But that was never supposed to touch Nyla. Not once. And I hadn't known about fucking Denning. I had fucked up. "Listen to me, we can fix this, all right? I'm sure that after giving your father some time to cool off, he will come to his senses and realize that you are an asset—"
She didn't let me finish. “But it’s such bullshit.”
I couldn't help it, a chuckle burst out. "Ah, my sweet Nyla. Your mouth really does run away with you."
"I know, but God, I'm just so furious. Denning broke into my goddamn flat. And my father did nothing, said nothing. What am I supposed to do now?"
"Right now, you finish your wine. You deserve it. But look, the Nyla Kincade I know wouldn't just give up.” I shot her a smile.
She nodded and then swiped a hand under her nose.
I reached around the coffee table and grabbed a tissue box, pulling two free and handing them over.
She took them from me and blew her nose. "Sorry I'm such a mess."
"I get it, you're upset."
She shook her head. "I'm not upset. I'm incensed. I'm not sad and simpering and whimpering because my daddy took away my toy. I want to do murder."
I blinked. Jesus Christ, she was a warrior. That was so goddamn hot. "Look, I want to help. Anything you need. This isn't the end."
"Oh, sorry, you thought me sitting here and drowning my sorrows in Rosé meant I was giving up? No. This is just the tears before the rage. Denning is getting what's coming to him. I believe in justice, and I will not let it go until it's mine. And my father, well, my father has something going on with Denning. And I love him, but what he's done is wrong.” She gave a slow shake of her head. “And it's not just me.
