Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
She’s talking about her family scandal, which is nothing compared to mine. And while I’d been certain I needed to pull off the band-aid and tell her everything tonight, I’m not sure if I should bury her in the burden all at once or wait. I want to wait, and it would be easy to justify doing so, but I need to think and force objectivity. Either way, I can’t get her home with me fast enough.
The door starts to buzz, and I glance over my shoulder to realize Adam’s holding it open. I twine the fingers of one of Alana’s hands in mine. “You ready for this?” I ask, speaking of the crowds we’ve been promised outside.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, and the words punch me in the gut.
She is as ready as she ever will be for any of this because she’ll never be ready for what I have to tell her. We approach the lobby door, and there’s a team waiting on us. Kelvin exits before us, and Adam motions for us to follow, with him at our rear. A wave of protectiveness overcomes me, and I pull Alana close, sheltering her, some part of me afraid I can never protect her from what’s coming. Because it is; something big and bad is coming, and there’s no running. We have to stand and face it head-on.
Cameras flash, and our names are shouted, but finally we end up in the back of the SUV, Adam across from us, the door locked, and the vehicle moving. “I’m sorry, Adam,” Alana says. “I’m kind of a mess right now. I know—”
“I get it,” he says, shortening her plea for forgiveness with understanding. “It’s not easy to have me around.”
“It’s not you, though,” she says. “You’ve been great.”
“I’m only as great as the next moment we’re in together. But I’ll be careful to respect your privacy.”
My cellphone buzzes with a text message, and I swear a ball of dread forms in my gut for no explainable reason. I slip it from my pocket to find a message from my mother: 911. It’s the code she promised to use if my father contacted her. And fuck him. That’s my mother. Always the fiercest of them all.
Another message pings, and this one is from my father: Every beast has horns and talons. Do you really want to see mine? Last chance to make this right. Cash out and walk away. Or else.
Anger bubbles inside me. He’s fucking threatening Alana, and I’m at my limit. I reply with: You think she makes me weak. You’re wrong. The wrath I will regin down on you if you touch her is unfathomable. Anything you think I will hold back, I will not.
Ah, son, he replies. When you talk like that, you make me proud, but there is a softness inside you that neither of us can deny. You are no match for me.
As the famous saying goes, I reply, arrogance is the surest path to failure.
And because he can’t allow me the last word, he concludes with: We’ll see.
Seconds tick by, adrenaline pouring through my veins, before I pull up Caleb’s number and text: I need to see you.
He answers immediately: When?
This weekend. I’ll let you know, but acting on my father’s behalf is not in your best interest.
I’ll wait to hear from you on all points, he replies, and I slide my phone back in my pocket to find Alana staring at me, her eyes wide and worried.
“What just happened?” she asks softly.
“Nothing that matters tonight.”
“But it matters?” she presses.
“Maybe,” I say, not willing to be pushed into saying more—not here and now, at least. I need to think about where I’m headed with that message to Caleb and just how dirty I’m willing to get.
The vehicle pulls up at the rear of my apartment, which I assume means the front is a mass of reporters. “We’re clear for entry,” Adam informs me as if reading my mind. He exits the rear door, does whatever he does, and then leans inside again. “Let’s move.”
I kiss Alana’s hand. “Home sweet home, baby.” I soften my voice. “Let’s go upstairs.” I don’t give her the chance to argue. I exit the vehicle and take her with me with no intent of allowing my father to ruin the first night Alana calls my home her home.
Chapter thirty-seven
Alana
The trip inside the building that is my new home is as easy as a summer breeze offering relief from the burning hot sun—or, in our case, the press. But there is little to offer relief from the battle raging around us. I don’t know who Damion was texting with on the ride here, but I know the hard set of his jaw and the sharpness of his eyes well enough to be certain the content was about his father.