Page 11 of Turning Back

“What the fuck?” I say, before I remember I’m holding Adley.

Bric looks at me… looks at Adley… and then looks at me again. “Well, you did good, brat. She’s adorable.”

Brat. It makes me want to growl at him. I always hated him calling me that. “What the heck are you doing here?”

“Heck?” He laughs, then nods. “Oh, I get it. Kids and shit, right?”

“Bric—”

“I just found out where you were.” He stands there stoic, like this explains everything.

“And?” I’m so beyond stunned. Not to mention annoyed. “What happened to the no-follow rule?” I worried about Quin looking for me at first. But after a few months I tried my best to put that part of my life behind me. And Bric? Never in a million years did I expect him to show up.

“Look.” He sighs, looking around. My suite has a porch, so it’s outside. And I share this porch with three other suites. This makes Bric nervous. “Can I come inside?”

“No,” I say. “No. We were just leaving.”

“Going where?” he asks. “Somewhere where I can’t come? Or can I come with? I really need to talk to you about…” He looks down at Adley again. “This… situation.”

“We don’t have a situation, Bric. And we don’t have anything to talk about, either.”

Bric leans both hands on either side of the doorjamb like he’s gonna take control of this situation right now. Fucking bulldozer. He’s always been like that. Elias Bricman needs to get his way or he morphs into an asshole on the spot.

“So…” he says. “Who’s her father?”

“Really?” I ask in my most cynical voice. I even raise one eyebrow.

“I think I deserve to know this, Rochelle. You can’t just get pregnant and walk away from the father.”

I snort as I adjust Adley’s bottle so she can continue eating. “What makes you think you’re the father?”

He shrugs. “Quin would say the same thing if he was here.”

I look Elias Bricman dead in the eyes. “What makes you think he’s the father?”

The look on his face almost makes me laugh. Almost. I hold it in so he figures I’m serious. Asshole.

“Can. I. Come. In.” He says each word in little staccato clips. It’s not a question. Not the way he says it. It comes out as—I’m coming in.

He pushes past me and then, yup. He’s in all right. I close the door and whirl around. “What do you want?”

“Who’s her father?” he asks again.

“How the heck would I know?” I laugh. “Could be you, I guess. Could be Quin. Could be someone else.” I say it to piss him off. And it works. Because he’s got that look on his face. The one that says, Be careful.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he says, on the verge of angry. “There are only two possibilities. Smith already told us he stopped seeing you months before you left.”

“You think you know me, Elias? You’ve never known me. At least Quin tried. You never tried. You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted. End of game.” I smirk at him and enjoy his confusion. It’s not often I get the best of Bric. So I soak it up.

“So you played the game for almost three years and then suddenly remembered you were only there to get a fertilized egg out of it and left?”

“I already said I don’t know who the father is. How would I possibly know that without a DNA test? Did I swab your cheek, Elias? Did I get a blood sample from Quin? Why are you here?”

He calms down after that. I can see it in his expression. I know him pretty well. Three years is a long time. Enough time to understand body language and facial expressions. Enough to be wary of his dark side. “Are you angry with me?” he asks.

“I’m not anything with you, Bric. I’m just… I’ve just moved on. OK? I’m different now. My whole life is different. And I really don’t know why you’re here. After a year, you show up now?”

“One year exactly,” he says. “It’s been one year to the day.” I say nothing so he stares at me for a moment and then looks around at my suite, trying to get a grip on the situation.