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“Time to decide, sweetheart. Are you getting ahead of the narrative?” At my obvious confliction, his forehead furrows in empathy. “This may not count for much, but I think you should do as Alex suggested. Talk to North. Let him do what he will. At least he’ll have the truth.”
A text message chimes on my phone, and I slip it from my pocket, needing a moment to digest what my options are, despiteknowingI only have one option.
To tell him I’ve been working here for years. Paying bills with the money I’ve earned here, fair and square.
But then it opens a whole new can of worms when he’ll inevitably question whether I worked inRisqué.
His words from our conversation earlier echo in my mind.
“Or perhaps you’re only sorry now because your lies caught up to you.”
I don’t want to lie. I want to re-earn his trust.
Ineedto.
And there, I have my answer.
We need to talk.
Just when you thought you couldn’t fall further from his grace.
As I unlock my phone, I verbalise my thoughts to the waiting men. “I’m going to tell him. I need to be honest and let the chips fall where they may. Hedeservesmy honesty.”
My phone finally loads the text that appears to have been sent hours earlier, and my heart rate kicks up a notch.
Caden
I’m his match, Bam. I’m his motherfucking match!!!
I’ll FaceTime tomorrow so we can discuss the next steps.
CHAPTER28
CADEN
I tugJesse closer while I shoot a message to Summer, letting her know the most wonderful news ever. There’s a pleased as fucking punch smile front and centre on my joy-filled face, and I don’t think anything could bring me down right now.
Ford’s eyes meet mine in the rearview, his face a carbon copy of mine, and it makes me smile even wider in response.
“I can’t believe you’re my match. I just can’t believe it!”
I pocket my phone while centred on the disbelief in my son’s tone, and I vaguely note that we’ve arrived home. My eyes drift to the cling-on paps, hungry for a candid. Desperate for something to feed off of.
Fucking vultures.
The absoluteworstpart of this lifestyle. Seeing them is a constant reminder that this is not the life I dreamed of.
My newfound contempt for my manager—and my father’s oldest friend—swells in my throat as nausea swirls in my stomach. The desire to find something to make him pay for his interference in my affairs is almost overwhelming.
“Looks like your father arrived while we were away, Cade.”
Ford’s words draw my attention away from my thoughts as my eyes continue to watch the handful of camping paps lingering outside my gates to the waiting car in my driveway.
It’s strange that Dad didn’t text or call, and I find myself wondering how long he’s been here.
Once we enter the house, a smile blooms on Jesse’s face when he hears Dad’s deep voice singing softly in the kitchen. We follow the sound, a smile of my own appearing when we find him elbow-deep in a butter churn alongside Maggie.
“You’ve missed some there, Mr Sutton.”
