He’d hugged me.
It was the first time he’d done it since my mom had died, and I froze. It was like capsizing in the middle of a storm, and being so disoriented, you think you’re swimming for the surface, only to discover the sandy ocean floor at your fingertips.
I did not deserve his love. I was so ashamed of what I’d done, and my avoidance in dealing with it increased that shame ten-fold. The task of apologizing seemed insurmountable.
I pulled the library door closed and filled my lungs with air. Royce had ambushed me with this, and while I was angry with him, I had to focus and steer the conversation away from anything I wasn’t prepared to talk about. The best way to do that was to stay in control.
“If this is about my approval on marrying Sophia,” I leveled a gaze at our father, “you have it.”
His reaction was subtle, but I caught it. He hadn’t expected this and was pleased, but then skepticism took over. He didn’t trust my statement and wondered why I was telling him what he wanted to hear.
His tone was guarded. “Is that so?”
“You had it the day you asked for it, but we were interrupted. I haven’t been able to find a moment in private since to tell you.”
He still didn’t believe me. “We were alone in your office when we spoke on Friday.”
“You mean when you appeared without warning and stayed all of thirty seconds?”
A scowl darkened his face, but it seemed self-directed. “I may have been brusque with you because I was dealing with another issue.” He pushed away the frown, and something like hope lit his pale eyes. “I have your approval, then?”
“Yes. I like Sophia, and you two are good together.” I was being genuine. Their relationship was strange, but it worked. I straightened, took a page out of his book to use my body language to signify the conversation was over, and turned toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I—”
“We have another matter to discuss.” His voice was firm but not sharp, telling me this ‘matter’ was going to be difficult, and I swore in my head. “It concerns the woman you’re seeing.”
I froze.
Royce had remained in the background, but at some point he’d turned to face us, and he lifted a hand to rub a crease from his forehead. “Dad wanted to do this at dinner, but I talked him out of it.” He dropped his hand and gave me a pointed look. “So, you’re welcome.”
My anger over Royce’s ambush evaporated in a second. He’d pulled me into the library to prevent my father from ambushing Emery, and I was grateful.
I did my best to prepare my defenses. If my father was going to try to take her away from me, he was about to have a war on his hands. “What about her?”
“Are you aware she has a criminal record?”
I nearly let out a sigh of relief.
Two things that hadn’t changed about my father were his paranoia and his thoroughness. He had an army of investigators on his personal payroll, and everyone who entered our family’s circle was properly vetted. A detailed background check was likely enclosed in the leather portfolio where he rested his hand.
“Yes,” I said. “She told me.”
Something was . . . off.
Usually, he reveled in exposing people’s flaws and secrets, but today, he hesitated. It was almost as if he didn’t want to be asking me these questions.
“And you’re aware of her connection to Wayne Lambert?”
My bones turned to ice, locking me in place. Emery had told me no one knew she’d broken into Lambert’s safe except Jillian, and then me. How the fuck had my father’s investigators figured it out?
Maybe they hadn’t. Was it possible this was some kind of bluff? Or did he mean a connection I didn’t know about?
My voice wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be. “She was friends with Jillian, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not.” He opened the portfolio and glanced down, although I was sure he’d read the report thoroughly and already knew all the information it contained. “Her father went to prison for breaking into Lambert’s house.”
Oh, fuck.
THIRTEEN
VANCE
My sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation my father needed.
“So, she didn’t tell you that,” he stated quietly. He wore reluctance, but it was a terrible fit on his broad shoulders. “I understand she changed her name after her father’s death. That’s why you must have missed it.”
No, I’d missed it because I didn’t do a background check at all. I’d foolishly taken Emery at her word, and, shit, she hadn’t even told me her real name? After everything we’d shared? The hurt of it stung like she’d injected toxin straight into my heart.
This betrayal . . . it was white-hot, searing me and melting my tongue so I couldn’t even speak.