He laughs, genuine humor shining in his eyes. “Have you even met Cassidy?”
“But still,” I respond with a nod, understanding where he’s going with the question. “You have every right to be pissed at me.”
“I learned a long time ago not to go around being angry before hearing the full story,” he explains, his words calm, his demeanor completely relaxed. “And if nothing else, I know you, and I know my daughter. So at least it will be a good story.”
Frowning, I give him a good once over, trying to figure out what his game is here. Because everyone knows the first rule of playing on Conrad Logan’s team is to stay away from Cassidy Logan.
I expel a frustrated sigh, my hands running though my hair as I mutter, “It’s your own fault, anyway.”
“My fault?” he asks with a raised brow. “How do you figure?”
The laugh that falls from me is hollow. “If you hadn’t put that archaic stipulation on her inheritance, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Stipulation?”
Now I full-on glare at him. “For fuck’s sake, Conrad. You could at least have the decency to own up to your own misogynistic patriarchal nonsense.”
The look on his face is pure confusion.
“Ren,” he responds, hands palm up in front of him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I stare at him, understanding slowly sinking in.
That little—no. There’s no way.
“Are you saying,” I whisper, my stomach like lead in my gut. “That you do not have a stipulation on Cassidy’s inheritance that if she doesn’t provide an heir by a certain age, she will forfeit her trust fund?”
Conrad’s brows raise until they’re practically in his hairline, his eyes wide as he takes in my question. He blinks a few times, his head cocking to the side, then, frowning, he says, “An heir?”
I nod. “Yes, a goddamn heir.”
He presses his lips together. Clears his throat. “Are you being serious right now?”
Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest. “Serious as a fucking missed goal during overtime in the playoffs.”
I have no idea what I expected when I walked in here, but this conversation absolutely is not it. He remains quiet for a fewmoments, watches me closely. Then his lips twitch, and he laugh escapes. He does his best to hold it back, but quickly gives up, and a deep chuckle reverberates through the room.
I glare at him. “I cannot believe you’re fucking laughing right now.”
“Oh, come on, Ren,” he responds with a residual laugh. “Surely, you can see the humor in what you’re saying.”
“Humor?” I ask, my blood pressure rising so quickly, I’m sure a vein must be pulsing visibly on my forehead. “Your,” I pause to make air quotes as I say, “Little girl,” I pause again then clear my throat as I work to push down my anger before continuing, “Duped me into being her sperm donor, and you think I should be able to findhumorin it?”
He sobers immediately. “Well, when you put it like that.”
Just when I think I’m making progress with that woman, I learn something completely unhinged about her that makes me think I should cut my losses and run for the hills.
Conrad says my name but I ignore him, intent on being as mad as I possibly can be regardless of anything he may have to say. Cassidy chose to lie to me about something hugely important, something that will change my entire existence in more ways than just how I view the rink. Cassidy is smart, attractive, all-in-all a real catch for anyone looking for a partner. She could’ve just picked someone and not had to give up anything at all.
Which makes me wonder if there is no end to her duplicity?
“Ren,” Conrad shouts, drawing my attention to his face. His expression is no longer amused, but he’s also not angry or any of the emotions I’m feeling. “I can’t explain why my daughter chose to tell you this tale. I won’t make excuses for her behavior. But I will ask one thing of you, a favor to an old man.”
“What?”
“Hear her out.”
“You want me to hear her out?”
