“She’s not.”
I’m trying not to panic, but Liam doesn’t act this way unless he’s freaking out or knows that I’ll freak out. She’s definitely not in danger, so it can’t be that.Did she leave?She wouldn’t.Right?No, she wouldn’t. I know she wouldn’t. When I left the apartment this morning, she was perfectly happy. I look at the time. I’ve only been here for four hours. What the hell could have happened in four hours? A lot. That’s the answer.
“Liam, what the fuck? Spit it out already.”
He moves out of the way so I can see. It’s my father’s calendar and there’s Lyla fucking James’ name blocking two hours of the day. I’m frozen for a moment, staring at her name and my father’s up top, as if one of them will change to something that makes sense. What the fuck is this?
“She’s been here for an hour?” I push my chair back and stand quickly.
“Yep,” he says.
“How the fuck did you just find out?”
“Because I don’t fucking stalk her,” he says behind me as he follows me out of the office. “Do you think Dad called her? Do you think he’s making her sign more papers? Do you think. . .”
“I don’t know what to think,” I snap.
We stand outside our father’s office for a moment, looking at each other. We’ve never just barged in there, but there’s a first time for everything. I push the door open and halt so fast that Liam crashes into me. Lyla, my mother,andPrescott are sitting across from my father, all smiling. They have glasses of champagne set in front of them like this is a fucking weekend brunch. Their smiles drop when they see me. I was never the one left without an invitation to parties when I was younger, but I understand what it feels like now.
Lyla stands up immediately as I charge toward them. I pause mid-step as I fully take her in. She’s wearing black heels and a beige dress past her knees but molded to each of her curves. Fuck. I would have hired her on the spot if she wasn’t mine and had shown up dressed like that for a job interview.Or not,since that would definitely end with an HR complaint. I feel the tension in the room building as I check her out and remember why I’m here.
“What the fuck is going on?” I close the distance between us and glare at Prescott, who looks amused, which further pisses me off.
“We just finished up a meeting,” my fiancée says simply.
“Why’s Prescott here?” I look at him again.
“Because he’s my lawyer,” she says, answering for him.
The motherfucker leans in and plucks his glass of champagne from my dad’s desk and starts to sip on it.Oh, I’m going to kill him.He was my right wing for four years, my enforcer, my boy. Does that mean nothing to him?
“Why are you here?” I look at my mother, who looks worried.
She probably thinks I’m going to cause a big scene, and start flipping and breaking shit. The verdict is still out on that.
“Because we were dress shopping and she asked if I wanted to tag along,” she responds.
My eyes narrow. “Why the champagne?”
“Because everything is set for the wedding and I found a dress,” Lyla says.
I narrow my eyes at everyone and land on my father. “Is that what the TWO-HOUR meeting is about?”
“I’m not getting involved,” he says, putting up his hands.
“My wife is sitting in your office.” I snap. “You’re already involved.”
“Your fiancée,” he says with a smile.
Oh-ho-ho. I’m going to jail today.
I try to focus on breathing and look at Lyla again, since she’s the only one in this office I’m not liable to kill, even if it is her fault they’re all here.
“Is this really about the wedding?” I ask as calmly as I can.
“It’s partially about the wedding, yes,” she says.
Partially? I turn around momentarily, sinking my fingers into my hair, exhaling in frustration, and turn back to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”
