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I did trust him, but after everything Jasmine pulled over the last year, trying to use Elara as leverage in a custody battle to get more money out of the Davenports, I would never trust her. That woman was more than Hale’s ex who cheated on him with his father. She was evil.

She used her pregnancy as a meal ticket, at first expecting a large payout with a tidy visit to a clinic, followed by a lengthy vacation to recover. But when Hale stepped in, her expectations changed.

Despite his father’s atrocious betrayal that resulted in pregnancy, he couldn’t stand by and watch part of his family disappear. Hale did everything he could to protect Elara and see that she made it safely into this world, at which point he adopted her. After the delivery, Jasmine was supposed to be on her back-stabbing way. But like an unwanted chin hair that won’t quit, the bitch kept coming back.

Jasmine saw Hale’s unconditional love for Elara and used it against him. She never wanted to be a mother, yet she threatened to take Elara away if she wasn’t paid more. In the end, the cost of her silence and Hale’s peace was steep. His relationship with Remington would be forever changed. And now, Jasmine was technically married to his father, in a cold, contractual, loveless marriage where they never saw each other, but Elara was safe.

“I just feel like that woman can’t rest knowing you’re happy. She always feels entitled to a portion of your joy.”

“That bitch will get nothing but misery if she tries to come near me or my family ever again, understand?”

I swallowed and nodded tightly, relieved but also regretful I brought her up. It was the only time I saw Hale truly lose his composure. She was the root of his territorial nature and deep seated trust issues. That woman could transform his usually agreeable personality into a frigid wasteland at the drop of a hat, which was why I hardly ever mentioned her name.

No one knew what Remington had done. Barrett suspected, but never actually asked. Seraphina assumed Elara was Hale’s biological daughter and Hale never intended to correct her assumption. As far as he was concerned, Elara was his. And, in all reality, she truly was Hale’s.

Coming from a father who abandoned me in diapers, I recognized more than most the selflessness of Hale’s actions. Elara might never fully know what an incredible thing her father had done for her.

“Will Remington bring Odette to the wedding?”

He scoffed. “If they’re still together.”

“It’s in three months.”

“He moves fast.”

That was true. Jasmine was his fifth marriage and Odette had lingered longer than most. According to stories I’d heard, Remington’s lovers typically had a very short shelf life.

“Well, I hope he does. I like Odette. I like the way your dad acts when he’s with her.”

“Baby, let me give you some advice. Never get attached to any of my dad’s women. He changes lovers as frequently as most people change their shoes.”

I curled my lip, disliking such a depraved view of the man I adored. “Gross.”

Contracts Can Be So “Grey”

I had made the crucial mistake of bitching about the tabloids to Remington. As a man, Hale’s father had very little patience for feelings and what he considered bullshit. As a boss, he only wanted to spend time addressing problems with solutions.

“Jesus, Meyers, that’s what I call a cheap shot.” He paged through the latest exposé of my contorted face against the backdrop of his beautiful son. “What the hell happened to your face in this one?”

I snatched the magazine out of his hands. “I was eating a jelly donut and I forgot napkins!”

His silver eyes rolled under his bushy grey brows. “Look, if you’re going to be a part of this world, you need to anticipate an audience. Someone’s always watching. Don’t give them so damn much. Do your hair once in a while.”

“My hair is done!”

He glanced up at my head and grimaced. “If your aim is a good photograph, fix yourself up and pay for one. Stop assuming the position of the victim and get control of the situation. Have an engagement shoot. Then sell the photos to the tabloids. Hell, if you were using your head, you’d realize you could even make some money out of their interest. Instead, you’re sitting here, bitching to me about it in the middle of the work day. Get control of this thing before you give them all the power. You’re going to be a Davenport for Christ’s sake.”

He was right. This was our wedding and our story. With a little planning and self-care, I could totally take control of the narrative and redeem my image so the world didn’t think Hale was marrying Quasimodo on crack.

That night, when Hale got home, I told him about his father’s suggestion. He rarely liked admitting Remington was right, but he also hated when I felt less than everyone else.

Hale was always game for boosting my confidence at any cost. “Would a professional photo shoot make you happy? We can have PR work up a few wedding shots to generate positive press.”

“A tequila shot would make me happier,” I joked.

“I’m serious, Rayne. We can arrange a shoot if that’s what you want.”

“I want them to understand why you love me and stop over analyzing all the reasons we don’t make sense.”

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