“This isn’t over, Celestine,” Eloise calls after her. “We’ll be having a serious discussion about how to navigate this club scandal—”
“Eloise, please,” Samuel says half-heartedly.
No. That’s fucking it.
I stop walking and slowly turn around. “I’m sorry,” I say. “What club scandal?”
Eloise blinks.
I let out a short laugh, but the sound isn’t pleasant. “You mean the scandal where people are horrified by the complete lack of respect you’ve shown your own daughter?”
Neither of them answers. I feel Cece’s hand squeezing my bicep. A warning not to let this go further. But I’m also done.
“The scandal where you disclosed her mental health struggleswithouther consent? The scandalwhere the public is wondering how two people who can afford practically anything somehow came up short on basic empathy?”
Samuel’s face tightens.
“Levi, let’s just go,” Cece groans impatiently.
“Just a second, baby,” I whisper to her.
Then I pin my hardened gaze on the Wentworth parents. “Yeah. We absolutelyshouldtalk about that scandal.” My smile is cold. “But not today. And not until your daughter decides she wants to.”
“Levi,” Samuel says sharply, but it lacks the confidence he usually possesses. “That’s enough.”
I stare at him for a long moment before I nod slowly, calculating. “Already got rid of two parents who couldn’t love properly.”
His face pales, all while Eloise staggers back a step.
“Don’t make their mistakes, Mr. Wentworth.” I don’t wait for a response.
Instead, I lace my fingers through Cece’s and lead her toward the door.
Toward home.
THIRTY-FOUR
Cece
We’ve barely taken two steps outside the main door when I come to an abrupt halt. A tired, pained laugh escapes me. “Ass cheeks,” I say, voice cracking.
Levi quickly turns me to face him, his gaze studying with an intensity that’s become his normal. It’s bizarre to see him this attuned to my every reaction.
Unfortunately for him, I’m still struggling to understand the source of most of my actions.
“I said ass cheeks,” I repeat through another bout of laughter. “To mymother.”
The grin forms first, and then he throws his head back, laughing right along with me. “God! I should’ve recorded that for Vi.”
My shoulders shake under his hold, and before I can think twice, I raise my hand to tug at his suit lapel.
It’s slowly becoming a thing again. My signal. Somuch so that I rarely hesitate anymore. But I’m still fully aware of my actions, unlike before, when hesitation didn’t dictate my hands—instincts did.
I want those instincts back. The ones that didn’t pause to check for trust before following through.
One tug, and I’m enveloped by his warmth. Our chests shuddering with laughter still.
“I missed your press conference,” I mumble, my voice muffled against his chest. “I had it queued and everything. But my parents wouldn’t stop talking. I couldn’t even have it on in the background.”
