Silence thickens, heavy and dangerous, before his warning cuts through loud and clear.
“Fine. Then she can learn who actually controls what gets printed.” His gaze locks on mine, sharp, surgical, unflinching. “She’s after my daughter’s name,” he says. “After your image and reputation.” His tone lowers into something cold and unforgiving. “And apparently doesn’t realize I’ll dismantle everything she’s standing on to keep the people I love safe.”
The temperature in his office rises ten degrees, resolve at its core.
“But right now—” Mont rises from his chair. “I need to speak with Frankie. You can walk me through your plan to deal with Jenna en route to your place.”
CHAPTER 41
Cami
My phone chirps as I step out of the shower, steam curling around my ankles like it’s trying to shield me from whatever fresh panic waits on my screen.
I tug a towel free and twist it around myself, heart thumping in this ridiculous mix of nervous energy I can’t shake.
Maybe it’s Knox. Maybe he’s already on his way back.
Maybe—
Oh. It’s a message from Paxton.
Paxton: Are you alive or will the kittens need to raise themselves?
I huff out a weak laugh even though my stomach is doing somersaults.
I text him back quickly, one-handed, as I reach for my face moisturizer.
Me: I’m alive. Just anxious. Knox is talking to my dad right now.
I set the phone on the counter and stare at my reflection. Damp hair. Flushed cheeks.
A woman who had no idea she’d fall in love this summer and shake the careful world her dad built.
God, my dad. I love him. I do.
But he’s a tidal wave dressed in Tom Ford. And Knox is walking straight into the undertow.
My phone chirps again, and I quickly snatch it up.
Paxton: Oh fuck. Want me to call an ambulance preemptively?
Another text immediately follows.
Paxton: For Knox, I mean.
Breathing out a shaky laugh, I reply with a simple smirk emoji.
All of me wants to believe that Knox can handle Oliver Beaumont and trusts that Dad won’t go nuclear.
But wanting and trusting aren’t the same thing, and right now, I’m not sure which one my heart is clinging to.
Stripe and Shadow cry from the living room, a two-kitten rock band singing about who’s hungrier.
“Coming!” I call out, pulling on Knox’s shirt from last night, letting it swallow me whole. It smells like cologne and the man I love more than words alone can express.
Love. A feeling that’s settled into my bones like it signed a lease.
As I scoop up Stripe, my phone buzzes again.
