“Christian, my baby,” the hateful woman sings.
His hand comes around my waist, pulling me in close to his stiff body. “Caroline,” he grumbles.
The woman scoffs in her laughter, holding her martini glass. “Christian, please. Don’t be that way with me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Best you remember that I own part of this company as well,son,” she says.
“You’re drunk,” Christian says roughly.
Caroline raises her brows into her botoxed forehead, looking past her son. “Lana Gomez,” she patronizes. “It seems you’ve found your way back to my son.”
“Don’t talk to her.”
Caroline dismisses him, her eyes stuck on me. “We had an agreement, Miss Gomez.”
“Caroline,” Christian warns, tucking me behind him.
“I amyour mother.”
“And Lana is with me.”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes flick over to me again with a demeaning smile to match her gaze. “Your mother used to clean our house before the two of you met. I never understood a word she said.” She laughs. “I don’t think she ever bothered to learn English, did she? You learned English just fine though. But you’d think after all that time she spent here in Am?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I hiss.
“Or what, darling?” She takes a step.
“Back off, Caroline,” Christian growls.
“I am your mother, Christian.”
“Biologically,” he tells her. “Don’t disrespect Lana.”
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” His mother laughs before she chugs down her cocktail. Then her eyes are pinned on me. “I could destroy you. Everything you have is my money.Ourmoney.”
My eyes find Christian, the confusion flashing in his eyes as she glares at Caroline. I squeeze his hand harder and try to hide behind him, shielding myself with his broad shoulder.
“You don’t belong here?—”
I release him and leave them there.
I trip over myself, nearly falling on my face as I make a beeline for an escape. Groaning and not being able to see clearly, I bend to remove my heels, my shaky fingers fumbling with the strap around my ankle.
As much as I want to rip them off, I undo the buckle carefully to treasure these shoes that he bought especially for me.
I miss my mom.
Once they’re off and in my hand, I run to the lavish women’s restroom. I lock the door behind me and find a space in the fancy powdering area with love seats and a wooden coffee table.
When my body hits the seat, I let my sorrow and grief pour out of me.
CHAPTER 29
Christian
Lana runs—sprintsaway from me.
