“Do you want me to stay while your dad confronts you?”
I chew my lip, thinking about it. “No, that’ll only make things explosive. Could you drop me off at the manor and then drive back out?”
“Sure. Only if you promise to meet up again with me.”
I hug my arms around him. “Deal.”
Dax takes us into the estate and toward the manor. The motorcycle glides past the topiary garden and slows by the front steps. When we come to a stop, I reef off the helmet and slide off the motorcycle.
I hand the helmet to Dax and impulsively press my lips onto his. He kisses me back with urgency, and I wish my father’s footsteps weren’t already sounding in my head.
I pull out of the kiss and rush to the locker for my purse. I pull it over my shoulder and return to Dax for one final kiss.
Breathlessly, I whisper, “Okay, you’d better go.”
Dax grins, pecking my lips one last time. “Good luck.”
The motorcycle takes off, and I shiver, watching him disappear.
Okay. This is it.
I turn toward the steps and spy the front doors peeling open.
Move it, Vanessa.
I walk up the steps with purpose, and Murphy emerges into view. I keep myself poised, waiting for my father to follow suit. Two more steps, and he still hasn’t appeared.
I meet Murphy at the entrance and can’t see my father anywhere.
Is he so angry he can’t even look at me?
“Good morning, Miss Ashworth,” Murphy says, stepping to the side. “Another late evening at Miss Sylvie’s?”
“Huh?” I double-take at Murphy, and mumble, “Oh, umm, yeah.”
“Can I get you anything?” Murphy asks, noting my attire. “Hot cup of tea? A dressing gown? Claudia to run a bath?”
I step inside the foyer and slip off my heels. “Where’s my father?”
“He’s on his way to the helipad, miss.”
I double-take at Murphy. “He’s leaving?”
“Yes, miss. He wanted to get to the office to start on the contracts after his dinner last night.” Murphy closes the doors behind us. “Seems the meeting went quite well.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears and stretch my neck to rid the cramping pain. “Did he ask about me last night?”
“In regard to what, miss?”
I throw my hands up, exhausted. “When he got home, did he ask where I was?”
“No, miss,” Murphy says matter-of-factly. “He had me bring coffee into his study and got to work until the early morning hours. I presume he got, at most, two hours of sleep before leaving for the office.”
He was awake all that time and never wondered where I was?
I narrow my focus to the nearest staircase. “And he’s already left the manor?”
“Yes, miss,” Murphy replies. He follows me into the hallway. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and freshen up.”
