Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“At worst you’d have to do some damage control.”
“At worst? At best I do damage control. At worst I’m destroyed, Dad.”
“What the fuck does it matter, Liam? I’m not releasing PISA because you’re going to be the good brother and protect the trust. You’ve already said yes.”
I blink into focus, looking up at Freesia 2. I see Anna in every single stroke of the paintbrush, every wild, vibrant streak of color. When I close my eyes, I hear her infectious giggle, remembering the way her eyes shone with victory every time she made me laugh….
Is your name really West Weston?
That diamond is the size of my nipple.
I swear I blacked out after one particularly delicate part of the Brazilian. At one point they had me get on my hands and knees…
I let my mind wander away from my father and back to that moment of unbridled joy when Anna slapped her silicone bra onto the shoulder of my jacket. When she looked me in the eye and told me our night in the pavilion kitchen had been the best night of her life. When she stared up at me with infatuation and lust in our bed, as the hours blurred past…
And I remember how she looked answering the door that morning barely two weeks ago. Pantsless, baked, a rumpled mess. She was stressed, but she was glowing. She was unemployed, but she was still fighting. She was penniless, but she was living.
She wasn’t ever afraid to start over, again and again.
I’m your ride-or-die, West Weston.
I am the only one here offering you unconditional support and love—and I’m not even asking you to choose me.
She wanted me to choose myself. Because we both knew—and I did know, deep down, no matter how hard I’d deny it—that no one else in my family would put me first.
I open my eyes, electricity shivers through me, and I find myself saying aloud, “My answer is no.”
There’s a shocked pause. “What did you say?”
“I said no. Unless you resign immediately, I’m not coming on.”
“You’re choosing this path? You’re choosing to be obliterated?”
“If you genuinely wanted me as CEO for your father’s company and not for some power porn bullshit, then you wouldn’t obliterate me.”
He laughs once, knife-sharp. “This is the biggest mistake of your life.”
For a reverberating second, terror washes me out, makes me feel lightheaded. But whatever instinct kicked the words out of me takes over again. “Do your worst, Dad. It won’t change my mind.”
Thirty-Three
ANNA
Dad has gained a few pounds. Even though I couldn’t tell just by looking at him, I can feel it when I lean on his shoulder—something I haven’t done in what feels like an eternity. But by the time I reach the part of the story where we’re at LAX and Liam pulls me aside, making our last interaction also a transaction, Dad gusts out a breath and urges me to rest my head there while I finish the whole saga.
It feels amazing to physically lean on my dad again.
“This was quite a trip, kiddo,” he says.
“No kidding.”
“I wish you had told me the truth, but I understand.”
“I know. It just sounded so sleazy.”
“Well, did you fall for him?”
I shrug, but my heart wails out a soggy yes.
“He doesn’t sound evil,” Dad says quietly. “Just broken.”
“Very broken. I keep thinking about how he didn’t grow up with a David Green, and how incredibly lucky I am that I did.”
Dad’s hand comes to my knee, squeezing, and I look down at the scars there. So many IVs have gone into the back of his big, strong hand that it looks like a battlefield even though it’s been forever since anything went in that way. His central port now lives on his chest, and I learned about an hour ago that we have a tentative date for its removal—six months from now. It’s a hard-fought victory. Vivi even put up a countdown calendar on the wall.
“You think he’s too broken?” Dad asks.
I run my fingers over the back of his hand. “Too broken for what?”
“Too broken for you to love him, dummy.”
I tilt my face to look up at him. “You want me to stick with Liam? After he secretly bought my paintings?”
Dad shrugs like he doesn’t agree with my level of offense over this. “When we care about someone, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. We have to consider not only what they did, but also why they did it. Intent matters,” he says, and the wisdom he’s shared with me my entire life yanks me right back to Singapore and that cursed hotel room and the anguish in Liam’s eyes when he insisted that he and his father were not the same.
And only now does it occur to me that my suggestion that they were probably pushed him even further toward his shitty decision.