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What a clusterfuck.
She rubbed her forehead and muttered to herself, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I said that. I panicked. I didn’t know what else—”
His arms came around her as he cocooned her against his warm body. “It was actually a pretty good cover story.”
“Yeah?” She looked up at him to check if he was joking.
With a shrug, he answered, “It could work.”
***
Lorna narrowed her eyes, the heavy mascara and eyeliner shadowing her pretty green irises. Ophelia had never once seen her mother without makeup. Not even first thing in the morning. Her blond hair was pulled back into a twist, held with a jeweled clip and enough hairspray to smother a cow. Her mother thought the tight hairstyle made her look younger by smoothing out her wrinkles, but instead it made her look severe and unfriendly.
Right now, she was trying to intimidate Ophelia. It used to work. Today, she was too pissed. And more than a little shocked.
“An intervention?!” she yelled. Her voice echoed across the sitting room—an effect of the high ceilings and marble floors. When she’d been young and rambunctious, it had driven her mother crazy. She’d claimed the running and clapping through the empty rooms and hallways had given her “migraines.” Eventually, Ophelia had come to realize some people just weren’t meant to be parents.
Priya frowned from next to her on the crisp white love seat. “It’s for your own good.”
“Because we love you,” Chloe agreed, sitting across from them on the settee.
Ophelia’s gaze met her mother’s. She doubted very much her mom loved anything other than money, least of all Ophelia, who disappointed her at every turn.
She could believe Priya and Chloe loved her, in their own way, but an intervention? This was ridiculous. “What the fuck?” she finally said.
Her mother flinched.
“You’ve been a space cadet, O.” Priya gave her a sympathetic look. “Something is going on with you.”
“Yeah,” Chloe echoed. “This isn’t the real you. What happened?”
“Um, my dad died? Duh.” Fucking duh.
They shook their heads. “You’ve been acting weird since your road trip,” Priya said.
“I have a lot going on right now,” Ophelia snapped.
Her mom chimed in. “You’ve been avoiding making decisions. We lost the best deal we could’ve hoped for because of you, and now you’re moping around like a sullen teenager. It’s time to grow up.”
She had been avoiding decisions while she’d been away in Glacier trying to figure out what her father wanted. But since coming home and turning down the three-hundred-million-dollar offer, she’d been working on the whole growing up thing. She was in the middle of learning the ins and outs of Covington. She’d been meeting with her father’s advisors, and the board of directors, to talk through all the options, one of which was not to sell the company at all.
Her mother was going to flip the fuck out.
Chloe leaned in, her brow crinkled in concern. “Tell us honestly, O. We won’t judge . . .” She grabbed Ophelia’s hand. “Are you on drugs?”
“What?” She yanked her hand away. “Are you crazy? No, I’m not on drugs!”
Oh my god. She seriously needed to evaluate her friendships.
“It’s a valid concern,” Priya pointed out. “You were playing tonsil hockey with your new security guard.”
Her cheeks heated. For the last couple of weeks, she’d been having secret meetings with Luke. They’d tried to stay platonic but it was impossible to keep their hands off of each other. He’d followed through on his promise—whatever she needed, he gave her. A listening ear, someone to vent to, and then spankings, sex on every mostly flat surface, and orgasms. So many orgasms.
“And while you’ve been acting like a whore,” her mother snarled, “I’ve been going broke! I can’t believe after all the years I raised you, you don’t even care about me!”
What? A sudden rage bubbled up, making her face hot and her ears ring. How dare her mother accuse her of being a whore, and of not caring about her. Her mother wasn’t exactly a nun, and she got a generous income from her father’s estate, even now that he was dead. The only thing she didn’t have was a nice big chunk of change to flash around as a reward for having a rich, dead ex.
And to claim Ophelia owed her because of the years she’d raised her? The closest thing she’d ever had to a mother was her nanny, Louise. Lorna had never given a rat’s ass about her—not even when she’d been little. To her mother, she’d only ever been a pawn against her father, and a showpiece for her own public image.
