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Ari pried open the fist in my lap, intertwining her fingers with mine. Part of me had wondered if she’d be pissed that I spoke for her rather than letting her answer again, but when I turned, her eyes blazed with appreciation.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Monroe leaning forward in his seat, staring down my ex. “Just so we are clear, I hired Ms. Contreras well before she’d ever met Dalton. The next time you want to challenge someone’s professional merit, I suggest you do it based on facts, not outdated or offensive assumptions. That’s your whole damn job, right? The irony of you insinuating that she’s unqualified, when you’ve come in here with baseless claims and personal vendettas.”

Emma’s face broke out in blotchy red patches. “I…well…she⁠—”

“Sit down, Ms. Faulk. I think we’ve all heard enough from you,” Monroe said, glaring until she complied before covering his mic and looking at me. “Why the fuck would they let your ex come to Media Day? Who do you think sent her?”

I wished I had an answer for him, but I didn’t. Turning in time to see Emma slump back into her seat before glancing to the back of the room, I followed her line of sight, only to find my father leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

That look in his eyes—it made my skin prickle.

Is she here because of him?

THIRTY-ONE

ARIELLA

THE MOUTH ON THIS MAN…

We filed offstage, seeking refuge from the crowd in my office.

My body buzzed with the adrenaline of trying to keep my attitude in check that whole time. I’d be damned if I let someone who was clearly trying to rattle me succeed.

“What a cunt,” Gracie exclaimed, storming in. “And that photo? Who the fuck cares about you two eating a burger? It wasn’t like they caught him feeding you his protein-style meal.”

Dalton choked, bending at the waist to try and catch his breath from the sudden burst of laughter. I should have warned him that her filter was nonexistent. In fact, that was her keeping it tame. Give her a few times of being around him, and she’d vividly walk through her horizontal tango escapades.

“Ay, Graciella.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off my own laugh. It wasn’t good to encourage her—it went straight to her head, and then suddenly, she thought she was a standup comedian.

She plopped down into a chair, making herself at home. “What? I’m just saying what we are all thinking.”

A knock on the door killed our conversation.

“There you are, son.” Vincent Langley said the word as if it were foreign to him. “Ah, and Ms. Contreras, you didn’t do too bad up there.” His smile widened, the edges sharp and predatorial. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised that some questions rattled you. It’s a different world when you’re in the spotlight, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think she was rattled at all,” Dalton folded his arms over his chest. “If anything, I’d say she did better than we could have expected given that Emma decided to show up.”

Vincent’s attention shifted Dalton, and the tension between them was palpable. “She’s a reporter, Dalton. Is she just not supposed to do her job because you’re dating Ms. Contreras?”

My eyes were pinging back and forth between the two men, and as much as I wanted to see Dalton tell his father he was a dick, I didn’t want that to come as a result of him defending me. This was something the two of them needed to solve, and I didn’t want to be the catalyst for a fight.

“Thank you for your support, Mr. Langley. I’m sure with more experience, I’ll do even better,” I said, cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the room. I wasn’t usually great at kissing ass, but I really put the effort in on that one.

Vincent’s face morphed into a smug expression that told me he thought I was full of shit.

“Of course.” He lingered a moment longer, his gaze unwavering, as if waiting for me to slip up and call him out on the backhanded compliments.

When all I did was keep the fake smile that hurt the corners of my mouth, he gave a curt nod and strode out of my office.

The second he was out of earshot, Gracie let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Your dad’s got the charm of a rattlesnake.” Dalton forced a smile, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. I shot her a glare, warning her from saying anything else. Her tone softened and she stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dalty boy, if anyone can commiserate with having daddy issues, it’s me,” she said, patting him like he was a dog.

I gave her an appreciative smile, because I knew how much she hated talking about her relationship with her father.

“Anyway,” she looped her bag around her shoulder, awkwardly walking towards the door. “I have work to do, and since Ariella won’t let me date any of her players, there’s really nothing else keeping me here, so adiós.”

Dalton released a shaky breath when she left, closing the door behind her. His eyes were fixed on the floor, clouded with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite read. He seemed lost in thought, wrestling with something he couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, put into words. I rested a hand on his arm, hoping to offer some sort of comfort, but he just gave a sad, hollow laugh before plopping down in my chair. He cradled his head in his hands.

“You know, he’s only been in my life a few years, and I just assumed that maybe he didn’t know how to have a son after so many years apart. Ya know? That it would take time. That if I kept trying…”