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“Only because you were weak enough to listen to him.”
I shake my head. Clearly my absence cut deeper than I ever could have imagined and he’s determined to see me as a failure—hell, it’s one of the reasons I left to pursue my own dreams in the first place. Working for Dad would always mean living in his shadow, because that’s where he likes us to be. Under his roof, under his command.
And I’m not too good at taking orders.
“I wasn’t weak. I made the best choice I could at the time, and I realise now that it was the wrong one. But I can’t change the past, okay? I’m here now. Isn’t that what counts?”
For a moment, I have this fleeting hope that he might forgive my past indiscretions. But that would mean opening himself up to me—and my father will never do that. Not even looking death in the face has changed his attitude on the type of man he has to be. He’s like an old gum tree—strong, immovable. Resilient. And about as warm and fuzzy as you would expect from a hard piece of wood.
“You’re here now for your own purposes,” he says. “Not for your family.”
And with that, he waves his hand, dismissing me. I shake my head and stalk out of the lounge room and toward the front door. There’s no use trying to convince the old man of anything—he’s stubborn as a bull and twice as angry.
Since I also don’t have a hope in hell of convincing Mike to step aside, I guess I’ll have to prove my worth some other way.
Like figuring out whether Mike used the company credit card to fund two tickets to Bora Bora?
Would Dad even care? He’s overlooked so much for my stepbrother—would Mike’s stealing even rate on my father’s radar?
I have to try. What other choice do I have? But using Presley to get that information will mean dragging her name through the mud even more with this family. Because how else would I confirm the money didn’t come from their accounts without her help? Of course they’ll figure it out.
Why does it matter what your family thinks of her?
My gut churns. Because I don’t want our night at the burlesque to be a one-off thing. I’m not ready to walk away from her. I need...more. But dating Presley, especially now, so soon after the wedding, would be a slap in the face. If I do that, I’ll havezerohope of repairing things with my dad.
Which means I have to prioritise. What’s more important?
The golden rule: never be distracted by a woman.
I can’t get entangled with Presley, no matter how much I want to. It’s only going to lead to more mess and more trouble, and I don’t have time for either of those things. Therefore, I need to walk away from the most intense attraction I’ve ever felt for the sake of achieving a greater goal.
A stone forms in the pit of my stomach at the thought of walking away from Presley, but I squash the feeling. I’m doing the right thing by both of us. Presley deserves someone who’ll put her first, and I’ll never be that guy. And I deserve to take up the mantle as head of my family’s company.
Which means I have to bring my focus back to where it should have stayed all along: business. No matter how good the sex with Presley is, it’s not worth ruining my plans. I have to get the information about Mike from her...and then it’s over.
Saying goodbye is going to be a bitch—I can tell that already. But it’s what I have to do.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Presley
BYTHETIMEI make it home from Mike’s apartment, I’m exhausted. Drew deposits me on the couch and makes another one of those spiked coffee things. I finally have my grandmother’s watch back on my wrist and the weight is a familiar comfort. Not to mention I got some of my clothing back, so I can stop raiding Drew’s wardrobe.
Unfortunately, though, the “extraction” didn’t quite go according to plan. Mike came home in the middle, caught me in his apartment and decided that would be the best time to plead his case. I’d managed to find the watch in his sock drawer—which is not where I put it—because I’m pretty sure he was planning on using it to convince me to talk to him. Dickhead.
“How did it go?” Flynn asks.
He’s standing in the kitchen with Drew. Flynn happens to be Mike’s cousin, which is how he and my sister met—planning wedding activities.
“He’s got the gift of the gab, I’ll give him that,” she says with a grunt.
“He tried to convince me it was all in my head.” I laugh and the sound is hollow. “He said I ‘misunderstood’ what I overheard, and that I’d taken him out of context.”
“Explain how wanting to marry someone for the sake of trying to secure a job is just a misunderstanding?” Drew bangs around in the kitchen, noisily making my drink like she’s imagining Mike’s face on every cupboard door she slams.
“Drew.” Flynn shoots her a look, but my sister is in full flight.
Drew is majestic when she’s angry—silvery-blue eyes wild like some mythical creature about to unleash hell on the universe. She’s dressed in her signature head-to-toe black, complete with chunky hardware-studded boots and a necklace with a small silver fang hanging from it.
