The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

53. Chapter 53

fifty-three

Alexander

O ctober

The day Quinn walked out of my life, I lost my heart—she took it with her. I'd done all I could to avoid thinking about her, not because I didn't love her anymore, but because I loved her so fucking much that I was dying inside. I knew she needed space away from me.

I was a heartless son of a bitch when I watched tears swell in her eyes and my heart sliced in two. My hands itched to touch her, to hold her again. But I stood where I was and let those tears track down her cheeks without doing a damn thing about it.

Alexander stayed away, but Deimos didn't. She was angry with me—Alexander.

I kept the secrets.

I caused the pain.

Because of that, Deimos watched over her until the day she left for the States. When I found out she had won the art scholarship, I was fucking thrilled for her. She was fucking talented and deserved to accomplish her dream of having her art shown all around the world.

My will wasn't strong enough to resist her, to stay away from her, and Alexander Hades needed his heart—his light to his darkness.These past five months have been torture. Irish wanted to kill me when he found out that the woman he called Athena was his daughter—a daughter who lost her virginity at the age of sixteen to a monster—a sinner.

Athena was ready to confront her past and finally reveal the truth to Irish. For the past nineteen years, she thought Irish was dead. Helena knocked softly against my office door. "Come in," I yelled back.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but Irish is here," she replied.

"Bring him in, Helena. Thank you."

The truth was only moments away from being revealed. Irish walked in, taking a seat across from me. "Why am I here?" he demanded. I grinned, offering him a whiskey because he'd need it after this conversation.

"Because you deserve to know the truth. The woman you assumed was Athena is her daughter Quinn. The woman I love. My little butterfly. My Princess." I confessed.I pulled out my phone and texted Athena.

I watched him. He drowned the whiskey, slamming the glass on top of the table. "Athena's alive? "

"She is," I answered. There was a gentle knock on the door. "Come in," I replied, and the door opened, revealing Athena.

Irish gasped and stood immediately. His shock was displayed on his face. They stared at each other, neither one of them moving, until she ran to him. He wrapped his arms around her as they both cried.

"She's yours," Athena confessed. Irish pulled away, not understanding at first, until it finally clicked.

Bloody hell!

"You, son of a bitch. You fucked my daughter," Irish roared, his face deadly.Athena got between us to prevent Irish from coming after me, but I wasn't afraid. I didn't want to fight him, though, because that would mean hurting Quinn's dad.

The ringing on my phone snapped me back from my thoughts.

"Hello," I answered.

"Xander, your girl is out here causing terror," Nikolai muttered.

"What do you mean," I asked, confused. I had to return to London to deal with some business, but the Volkovs promised that they would take care of her. Plus, Irish had some of his people watching over his daughter. Quinn had just become the only heir to the Irish Mafia .

"She's causing havoc. Hurricane Deimos category ten has hit," he bragged, chuckling.

Fuck!

Athena told her.

I arrived in New York two weeks ago when I received a call from Nikolai letting me know that Quinn was getting rid of the people who hurt her mother. She shoved Deimos's sign of death down their throats.

She knew I was here.

That I'd been watching her.

Get ready, baby, because here I come.