Page 123 of The Fake Out

“It would seem a lot of people would love to get ahold of this information.” He pulled out the chair behind the reference desk and took a seat, propping up his feet and knocking over my Jane Austen bobblehead. “Funny thing. There’s a couple of gossip rags that would love to get their hands on this.”

“You can’t.”

“Get this. One of them is offering me fifty thousand dollars. That’s an awful lot of money, you know.”

I could not let this happen. It would ruin Chris. After he’d already had months of someone trying to ruin him. He didn’t deserve this.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you? I know we don’t have a great relationship but I’m still your daughter.”

He shrugged and removed his feet from the desk. “I could be persuaded to forget about those offers, but…”

“But what?” I asked warily.

He propped his elbows on the desk and cradled his chin in his hands. “A man’s gotta eat. So, if I had a better offer then I might consider it.”

A chill ran through my body. I stared at this man I was related to and wished with all my heart I wasn’t. “You are trying to blackmail me? Where in the world am I supposed to get money like that? Do you think I can run down to the bank in the morning and withdraw sixty thousand dollars?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. “A little higher, honey.”

I leaned my arms on the desk. “I can’t pay that kind of money.”

The door to the library opened. Because of course I’d failed to lock it.

“I knew you were freaking out, Sprinkles. I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Because of course it was Chris.

“I know you can’t pay that kind of money.” My father’s smile was evil personified. “But he sure can.”

Chris paused by the door, his eyes flicking from me to my father and back. “Who’s this?”

My father stood and slowly adjusted his jacket before casually strolling by me. “You can keep that copy. Don’t worry. I have others. I’ll be in touch.”

“Please don’t do this,” I whispered, even though a little part of me died saying it.

When he got to Chris, my father held out a hand. “Chris Sterns, congratulations on your engagement.”

Even puzzled, Chris was still a gentleman. He shook his hand. “Thank you. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, I didn’t give it to you.” With a wink, he patted Chris on the shoulder. “You have my condolences. My daughter has the personality of a bridge troll, so good luck with that.”

Then my father left the building. As usual, he came, he destroyed, and he left.

“What the hell is going on?” Chris asked, frowning at the door. “That was your father?”

I nodded and scooped up the stack of papers, but I was shaking so badly, I dropped them. They scattered everywhere. With a groan, I sank to the floor and scrambled to pick them all up. Maybe I could keep this from Chris somehow.

A pair of enormous tennis shoe-clad feet appeared in my field of vision. “What is all this?” He crouched beside me, tucked a piece of my hair behind an ear. The concern on his face made my heart squeeze.

I leaned into his hand and closed my eyes. Because I knew what I was about to tell him would change everything. This had been a fantasy, a living, breathing romance novel with a living, breathing hero but it had to come to an end. Happy endings didn’t happen in real life, at least not for me.

“We need to talk,” I said.

FIFTY-FOUR

Do you know what the Little Mermaid and I have in common?

We both want to be part of your world.