Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 112279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
I asked, my head starting to swim, “Isn’t his father James Kade?”
James Kade was powerful in the corporate world. He was connected.
Judging by my dad’s silence, I knew he was uneasy at this turn of events.
I looked at him, feeling like I was sinking underwater. “You didn’t take his connections seriously, did you? It was in Carl’s file.”
“The Monsons are in the Hollywood crowd. They’re nothing. And Carl exaggerates.”
Carl didn’t exaggerate. He never does.
My dad had made a mistake.
Anger pierced me, hot and fiery. “You decided to start this before we even knew the guy. If we lose Nova because of that decision, I will hate you for the rest of my life.”
He looked me square in the face. “If we lose Nova, I’m thinking neither of us will want to be spending Christmas—or any other day of the week—together for a long time.”
His words were so smooth, but the threat was a punch to my face. His sucker punch to me.
There was the Duke Royas ruthlessness. I’d seen it enough, experienced it enough, but I’d never had so much to lose because of it.
The doorbell rang.
8
Nate
Duke Royas was a dick.
Noted that immediately.
He had the same dark hair and dark eyes as his daughter did, and he stood in front of us wearing a business suit. He kept himself in shape. The file said he was sixty-four, but he looked forty-eight. He kept his hand held in front of his stomach with the face of his Rolex pointing toward us.
And Quincey Royas was furious with her dad.
She had bags under her eyes, and she was no less dressed up. She was in one of those pantsuits for women, her trousers flowing softly. I looked her up and down. Today, she was wearing fancy-looking, open-toed sandals. I figured they’d be the kind other women would swoon over. Her jacket was open, made of white silk, and another cream-colored top underneath, one that dipped to show some cleavage.
Why was I noticing this shit? Their whole getup said money and superiority—except for Quincey’s eyes. They said she was terrified and furious all at the same time, and both emotions were strong enough that she wasn’t hiding either now.
None of this was surprising since I got a more detailed file from my PI an hour ago, along with the assault and battery that the husband dished out on Valerie when Nova had been in the house. But that aside, I went over what else the file summarized about the two standing in front of me.
The relationship between father and daughter was more that Quincey was a possession of her father’s, barely allowed to see the mother she shared with Valerie. Or more likely, my PI guessed, Duke used emotional manipulation to cause Quincey to pull away from her mother’s family under the guise it had been her decision.
I read the files on Quincey’s mom and that side of the family. Stephanie and Guy Robertson. They came out smelling like roses compared to these two. There’d been a separation, and the relationship started up with Duke Royas, which was when Quincey was conceived. That relationship ended while she was still pregnant, and Stephanie Robertson went back to her husband. A nasty custody battle ensued after her birth, and Duke won Quincey. Stephanie had Valerie a year later, followed by another girl. Both Stephanie and Guy were physically healthy and attended church every Sunday. Guy was a banker, while Stephanie worked part-time at a local boutique.
I knew Quincey’s older half-brother. I hadn’t been close to Valerie’s family during our casual relationship, but I liked Graham. He was a solid guy from the little bit we did know him. And I say we because Mason knew him as well.
Graham wasn’t like what I was getting from here.
This was a huge estate, not a home. Dead people lived here, and I knew it’d be over my dead body that my daughter was raised in this environment.
If she was my daughter.
I was starting to hate thinking like that. I wanted to know. Now.
We stepped inside, and Mason shot me a look. The doctor was behind us, waiting for our go-ahead.
I could see Mason was getting the same vibe, and in that look, we both knew where the other stood.
I would raise hell and heaven to get my daughter out of here.
“Gentlemen.”
“Where is Nova?” Introductions could wait.
Quincey glanced to her father, who didn’t look at her. He was first studying Mason before turning to me. “She’s not here.”
“What?” Mason’s eyes went flat.
I stepped forward, lowering my tone. “We have the doc here to verify she’s mine. I think before we do any sort of talking, that piece of information needs to be settled first.”
“She’s your daughter—”
“I need to see proof.”
He bristled now because I’d ruffled his feathers. His tone was ice cold. “Why would we lie about something like that?”