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“Speak with my father. I think you should stay in the car for this.” The driver winds up toward the house and parks out front.
“Are you sure?” She doesn’t look eager to come inside though.
“Stay.” I put my hand on her thigh. “No matter what, I meant what I said last night. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you, but—”
“I’ll make this right. Just stay here.”
I get out of the car and leave her behind. She’ll be safe in the car—or at least, safe-ish.
I lean into the driver’s window. “If anyone tries to come near the car, turn around and drive back into the city.”
“Understood.” The driver nods to me. He’s one of my loyal guys, and I hope that loyalty holds in case my father decides he wants to punish my wife.
The walk into my childhood home feels like I’m heading to my own execution. By now, my father would’ve heard about the failed vote, and he’s probably been calling every single person even tangentially involved in politics to chew them out. He’ll be at peak rage, ready to make someone suffer.
The house is quiet. No staff’s around, which is odd. I take the back halls toward Dad’s study, but before I can reach the doors, I’m intercepted by Carson coming the opposite direction.
He looks exhausted. “He’s going to kill you.” No hello, no preamble. Straight to the fucking point.
I grab his forearm. “I did what they asked, and they still fucked me.”
“The McLarens are dead to us too. They’ll get what they deserve.” Red rings his eyes. “I was up all night trying to whip the goddamn vote and this shit still happened. We lost it by one fucking person.”
“How mad is he?”
“Livid. I haven’t seen him like this in a very long time.” Carson’s eyes dart to the study doors. “I wouldn’t go in if I were you.”
“I have to. Listen, Dara’s outside in the car. Can you keep an eye on her for me?”
Carson hesitates. “I don’t know—”
“I love the girl, okay?” I grab him by the shoulder and pull him close. “I love her, Carson, and I’m not letting her go.”
He must see how much I mean it in my eyes. I glare at him, not willing to let go until he says he’ll make sure Dara’s safe while I deal with this. Eventually, he nods.
“All right,” he says with a deep sigh. “I’ll check on her.”
“Thank you.” I release him. “This was never my plan. I tried to fix things, but the McLarens were never going to let me.”
“I know, bro,” Carson says, shaking his head. “But it still happened.”
He walks off. I take a moment to compose myself before shoving my way into the study.
Chapter39
Finn
Fathers stares at me from behind his desk. An empty whiskey glass sits at his elbow; his shirt’s open at the throat and his sleeves are rolled to his elbow. His hair’s in disarray from anxiously pulling at it, a gesture that used to scare the hell out of me as a kid. Whenever Dad was combing his fingers through his hair over and over, that meant I was going to get hit. Sometimes with a belt, sometimes with his fist. Always until I bled.
I stand in front of his desk. He doesn’t say a word, only tilts his head to the side as he takes a cigarette from his desk and lights it. Smoke blooms around him as he sits back. “I quit this shit ten years ago,” he rasps, taking another drag. “And I still think about having a smoke every day.”
“Why do you have a pack if you quit?”
“I made Mickey give me his.” He gestures in the air. Mickey’s one of the guards. “I didn’t think I’d actually smoke them until you showed up. Now I can’t help myself. Might as well get fucking cancer, considering the kind of sons I have.”
“They lied to me,” I say, keeping my back straight. I won’t let him bait me into anger.
