Tiny Dancer [Divine Creek Ranch 13] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Heather Rainier Page A

in his voice so she wouldn’t be distracted.
    “He came and got me. I barely recognized him. His clothing was different. Expensive.” Foreboding passed through him, and he braced himself for what she said next. “He told me that he’d never loved my mother, had married her because she’d gotten pregnant with me. He acknowledged that I was his daughter but then told me that he didn’t have any interest in pursuing a relationship with me, disrupting the life he already had elsewhere. He—” Camilla’s breath escaped her in a huge rush, and her shoulders slumped. She looked almost panicked when she gazed into his eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about that day.”
    “Let it out, sugar.” Ben brushed back her mane of strawberry-blonde curls, ready to gather her into his arms, but he wanted her to finish first. Get it out of her system.
    “He picked me up from the temporary home I’d been placed in and took me to an apartment. It was in an okay neighborhood. Not bad but not fancy either, and it was close by my high school. The apartment looked like it wasn’t lived in. There was a little furniture but otherwise pretty barren. I thought he’d changed his mind and wanted me with him.” Her hand shook as she wiped another tear. “Once we were in the apartment, he finally explained.
    “He said I was sixteen and nearly grown. He hadn’t been in my life for years and didn’t see where it would help either of us to cause upheaval by introducing his nearly grown daughter into his new family. I guess that means I have half brothers or half sisters out there somewhere.
    “He said he’d already set up a checking account for me, which he’d make regular deposits into, and he’d signed a lease and would pay rent through the day I would turn eighteen. He said he would provide for me as long as I stayed in school, stayed out of jail, and didn’t get pregnant until I turned eighteen as long as I agreed to his one rule.”
    Shit . “What rule?” What the fuck was it about that word— rules —that he now hated?
    “No contact with him, except through a lawyer and in emergencies only. If I came to his house or contacted him at home, he’d cut me off. By the look in his eyes I knew he meant it. He said he felt an obligation but he had responsibilities too.”
    “What did you do?”
    “I abided by his rules. I made a home for myself there and subsisted on the allowance he provided as best I could. I dressed like an adult and lied about my age and my circumstances to any of my neighbors who thought to ask.” She spoke in a monotone, not meeting his gaze, distancing herself from the experience. “I think I was in shock, and by the time he left, I realized I hadn’t gotten any of the answers to all of the questions I needed to ask. I called his lawyer a few days later, just to see if I could talk with him on the phone.” Fresh tears sprang from her eyes and coursed down her flushed cheeks.
    “And?”
    “The lawyer was very kind to me but told me, ‘Camilla, don’t go there. Just accept what he’s offered.’”
    “He left you.”
    Seeming to not hear Ben’s comment, she continued, “I got a part-time job, lived frugally, and saved my money. On the day of my eighteenth birthday I moved out of that apartment and into my college dorm room. I threw away every means I had of contacting him and got on with my life. Being out completely on my own meant I had to work, which meant it took longer for me to graduate. I found the job at the Dollhouse, which helped me financially, so I could graduate debt-free. You can piece together the rest of the story.”
    “He left you.”
    Still not meeting his eyes, she braced her hands on her knees and looked at the floor. Her shoulders were stiff as she gulped. “He told me all that, handed me the keys to the apartment—”
    Hating himself for it but knowing she needed to get past it, Ben murmured, “He left you,” and stroked her arms. He glanced at