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“Did it work?”
“I’ve been sober for three years.”
“Good to hear. You should be proud of yourself.” He grabs a bottle and starts pouring the brown liquid in his glass. “I’ve always had a good handle on my liquor. And I haven’t done a line of coke since I was thirty.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva at his confession.
“Make it thirty-five.” He chuckles to himself. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m perfect, because I’m not. I’m fatally flawed, yet I still love myself anyway.” Fitz caps the bottle of liquor and turns to face me once more, rattling the ice in the glass he’s clutching. “I don’t mind you coming around. You might’ve fucked up in the past, but we all deserve a second chance, and I think you have potential. But if you harm a single hair on my daughter’s head, if you break her heart or, God forgive you, make her cry, I will put your balls in a vise and squeeze until they pop. Understood?”
I nod once, my knees literally going weak at the threat apparent in his face. His gaze. His entire stance. The man means business. “Understood.”
“Good.” He nods once and takes a massive swig of his drink. Granted, it’s only two o’clock in the afternoon, but if he’s got his liquor under control, I’m assuming he’s fine. “I’ll go get Scarlett.”
“Thank you.”
The moment he’s gone, I walk a slow circle around the room, taking note of the fine art on the walls. The sculptures on display. That fucking bar set up with every expensive bottle of alcohol you can imagine. The million-dollar view that stretches out as far as the eye can see. The Lancaster family doesn’t scrimp on anything.
I run my hand across the back of the couch, the fabric soft and inviting. There are throw pillows lining the entire expanse, and I stop with my hand still resting on the couch, my gaze snagging on a photo of the very person I came to see.
It looks recent. Maybe a senior portrait? Scarlett is smiling, standing on the beach, her bare feet covered with foamy surf. Her long dark hair is blowing in the breeze, and her brown eyes are sparkling, the sky so blue behind her it almost hurts to look at.
Wait, no. That’s her face. She’s so damn beautiful it pains me to look at the photo for too long. I tear my gaze away from it, turning when I hear a sound, just as Scarlett enters the room, her expression wary.
She doesn’t trust me. I suppose she shouldn’t. I’m coming here with nefarious intentions, which sounds like something out of a historical-romance book or movie or whatever.
“What do you want?” Her voice is quiet, her entire demeanor subdued.
“No friendly hello?” When she scowls her answer, I lean against the back of the couch, crossing my arms in front of me. “I was hoping we could chat.”
“What more is there to chat about? Photos were taken, you’re the hit of the party, everyone thinks we’re together, the end.”
Ah, shit. She doesn’t sound too thrilled over it.
“I wanted to talk to you about all of that. Your party. The photos.” I put on my most charming smile, the one that used to get the panties to drop on just about any female I’d encounter, but Scarlett’s face is immovable.
Great. Guess I need to work a little harder. Dig a little deeper.
“They’re damaging to my image.”
I raise my brows. “From what I could tell, you gained a shit ton of followers thanks to our little interaction.”
“Not in the way I wanted. I want to earn followers on my own terms, not because I got caught kissing some has-been boy band member,” she says bitterly.
I’m actually offended. “Kind of harsh, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, let me tell you exactly what’s happened to me since you performed at my birthday party Saturday night. I have media outlets constantly hounding me, wanting to know the status of my relationship with Tate Ramsey. My inbox has exploded. My voice mail box is full. I can’t keep up with all of the comments and DMs, and I’ve even seen videos of girlsreactingto our kiss video, freaking out and screaming over it. They either want to be me or kill me. And that’s not even the worst of it.”
She’s practically panting, she’s so worked up.
“The worst part is the guy I’ve been in love with for the last two years of my life believes he lost me toyou. Some random guy I got caught kissing. That kiss didn’t even mean anything, and I’ve been waiting for Ian to make a move on me for what feels like my entire life.” She throws her hands up in the air. “And while he claims he’s still interested in me, I don’t know if he’s actually ever going to do anything about it. Because he’s never actually done anything about it for the last two years, so why would he now?”
Huh. Sounds like this Ian guy is an idiot, but I know now is definitely not the time to mention that.
“So no. I don’t want to hear what you have to say or talk to you about any of this, because kissing you was probably the biggest mistake I’ve made in my life. That photo of the two of us has ruined everything for me. I’d rather forget the kiss, your performance, and my birthday party ever happened.” Her shoulders slump, and she seems so damn pitiful I’m filled with the urge to go comfort her.
But I restrain myself. She doesn’t want my comfort. She doesn’t want me here at all.
“Ian must not want to fight for you too hard then, huh.” The words come out before I can stop them, and then it’s too late.
