Page 79 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said carefully.

“Lucky Luke must be going stir crazy. He never was one to sit still for too long.”

“You need to leave me alone,” I said, standing slowly. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just having a drink.”

“Oh, but trouble’s looking for you,” the tall one said, rising to match my movement.

The man had chosen the wrong day to test my patience. Something snapped inside me. Years of buried shame and resentment, decades of running from my father’s reputation. I was sick of the constant fear that his sins would catch up to me. Add in the bullshit with Clem and I was spoiling for a fight. White-hot rage made my vision blur around the edges.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet, my hands twisted in the man’s expensive shirt, pulling him close enough that I could smell his cologne and see the excitement flickering in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever talk about my father again.”

But even as the words left my mouth, I realized I had made a mistake. The man wasn’t afraid—he was thrilled. His pupils were dilated with anticipation. His breathing quickened like someone about to get exactly what they wanted.

He wanted me to lose control. Wanted me to throw the first punch in a crowded hotel bar where security cameras would capture every second. Wanted to turn me into the kind of man my father had been—quick to anger, slow to think, always one bad decision away from ending up behind bars.

The realization hit me like cold water. I released his shirt and stepped back.

“Smart boy,” he said, straightening his clothes with deliberate care. “Smarter than your old man, anyway.”

I turned and walked away without another word, leaving my unfinished drink on the table. Adrenaline made my hands shake as I jabbed the elevator button for my floor, and I clenched them into fists at my sides.

It didn’t matter if I changed my name and distanced myself from the family, people had long memories. There was no running away from the past.