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Only a few minutes later, we pull into the grand driveway of the fancy hotel. Christian pulls to a stop and lifts his phone from inside his jacket.
“Sharon,” he barks down the line the second it connects before stepping out of the car so I’m not party to his conversation.
I sit there waiting, wallowing in self-pity while he paces for a few minutes.
Only seconds after he places his phone back into his pocket does a perfectly made up middle-aged woman come bouncing down the stairs with a key in her hand. She points around the side of the building and I sigh as I realise what this is.
They’re sneaking me in so I don’t bring the tone of the place down.
Why didn’t he head out of town and dump me in the closest shitty B&B? Surely, he can’t think I deserve this kind of luxury?
No sooner has she bounded off again is my passenger door ripped open.
“Come on, then. I don’t have all day.”
I glare up at Christian, but his expression gives nothing away. I guess it should be expected, seeing as he spends his entire life fighting for arseholes who don’t deserve it.
With a less-than-gentle shove in the right direction, we move around the building to the side door and then step into the lift.
He takes me right to the top floor, and I silently follow him out to one of the best rooms—suites, I guess—the place has to offer.
“Wow, anyone would think you actually like me,” I mutter, following him through into the lavish living room.
“Take a seat,” he says coldly.
Knowing my only other choice here is to run and never look back, I do as I’m told and lower my arse to the sofa.
Christian doesn’t move, though. He just studies me through assessing eyes. “Tell me the truth, Reese,” he demands.
“I didn’t share those photos,” I state confidently.
“But you did take them?”
My stomach knots. “I… um…”
“Reese.”
“Yeah. Yes. I took them. Olivia and I, we’ve been… uh…” How the utter fuck do I explain to her dad what it is we’ve been doing. “Fooling around?” I finally say, although it’s not meant to come out like a question.
“Did she know you have photographic imagery of her?”
“She was aware of some of them, yeah.”
“You’re aware possessing them without her consent could leave you with a criminal record?”
“I’m aware,” I confirm. I might be a dumb-arse where Olivia is concerned, but I’m not a fucking idiot.
“Why did you take them?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I ask, my brow lifting, the cut Oak left me with opening up as I do so.
When Christian stares back at me, I figure he really does want to know.
“I… uh… Shit,” I hiss, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “I like her, Christian. Like, really like her.”
“So much that you’ve allowed her to be violated like this?”
“They were never meant to be seen by anyone but me,” I shout, hating that he could ever believe I’d want to hurt her like that.
