Page 95 of Playboy’s Purgatory

I shook my head and resolve filled me. In that second, I knew. The life I thought I was going to live crumbled, but the start of something else found roots.

“She’s mine,” my voice left no room for argument.

Throwing caution to the wind, I reached out and touched Vanessa’s finger. She gripped it quickly and there were no more questions as far as I was concerned.

That doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified. I was. But I also knew I had to do it.

Not to clean up my sister’s mess, I was done with doing that long before Vanessa was born. I did it because Vanessa deserved someone steady, someone who wouldn’t run, someone who would stay.

I was willing to stay. Even while scared. Even while resenting the hell out of my sister.

I could feel my mom studying me for a long time. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t try and change my mind.

“We’ll help you and be right here next to you every step of the way.” I looked up at her and her smile softened. “I’m proud of you,” she murmured. “You’ll be the mother she deserves, and you’ll do it right.”

Remembering it now, I almost scoff. Not because I would change it. But because I was stupid enough to believe her words and really thought I’d do it right.

Now, I have no fucking idea if I’m doing anything right when it comes to this parenting thing. Functioning on a wing and a prayer becomes innate.

Once the dough is mixed, I put it in the fridge to bake later before looking at the time. I let out a sigh, because I might as well go downstairs and get my day started, before heading back to my room. It doesn’t take too long to step into the kitchen of Bunz Out. The moment I do, I know something is wrong.

Nothing is out of place, and nothing is missing, not that I can see. It’s just a feeling. One I won’t be ignoring considering Jettson was called out of my bed at way too early o’clock in the morning.

I step back into the vestibule and close the door to pull out my phone. The moment I log into the security app, I see the video feed is cut and I sigh. The alarm isn’t active either and the system logs a reboot when I was definitely asleep. The time shows it happened right before the cameras went out.

Fucking hell.

My gut is screaming at me to not call the security company yet. Not yet.

Keeping my steps slow and steady, I move through the kitchen after grabbing a pair of gloves and slipping them on. I make sure to study every corner, every shelf, every little hidey-hole you forget about in spaces you spend too much time in.

I come up empty everywhere I look.

My shoulders drop and I let out a sound of relief. Everything in the kitchen is expensive and if something was tampered with, everything could be gone. Add in living above the bakery and I can’t ignore the potential danger, not when Vanessa is involved.

As I head toward my office, my heart starts to pound. This whole thing has Lola written all over it. I don’t have to know how she managed to manipulate even my security system to her will, but here we are. She’s the culprit.

And this is her last attempt to ruin things as she makes a break for it.

So fucking predictable. I just don’t know the shape of the mess exactly.

I slowly swing the door to my office open. I’m almost expecting to find a container of toxic waste with C-4 strapped to the side using duct tape while the timer is counting down from 20 seconds in the middle of the room. My eyes are squeezed shut and I have to force myself to open one of them.

What I see has me sucking in a breath while my other eye pops open before they both widen. Now I wouldn’t necessarily say my desk is covered in cash, but there are far too many bundles of large currency bills on it for me to feel good about what I’m looking at.

My mouth goes dry and my throat goes tight.

Lola doesn’t even care about the danger she just put her biological daughter in. That’s the worst fucking part.

It’s one thing for her to frame me, but Vanessa is sleeping right upstairs. And now I’m staring at, at minimum, a molehill of cash.

The only thing I can do is make a mountain out of it. And try to get ahead of this fall out.

I pull my phone out and send a mental hug to Ezra for insisting I put Ryker’s number in my phone. She said it was ‘just in case’ but at the time I thought it was because she saw how Playboy was treating me and wanted to give me access to someone who could help if I needed it.

Being the Prez has its perks, I guess.

It takes a few rings before he picks up. “Lara? Are you hurt? Why are you calling me?”