Cuffed by His Charm (Dirty Little Secrets 4)

“I’m sure she has.”

“Yes, Alice,” Dad says clearly to my mother, who I can hear rambling in the background. “Yes. Yes. Yes, dear.” A pause. Then, “Alice, please give me a minute to talk to the boy.” Another few seconds pass, then Dad sighs. “Sorry about that, son. Your mother is beside herself with these stories.”

“The stories are irritating.”

“I imagine they would be.” A softness reaches his voice when he adds, “I’m not sure how much I can do not being in San Francisco, but if you need me to help, I’m here.”

My father, who had taken over the helm of Lockwood, the world’s fourth largest chemical company, has always been supportive. He’d been the one to tell me to move to San Francisco and do my own thing, instead of what my mother wanted, which was for me to train beneath my father to take over the family business.

I grab my workout pants and step into them, telling my father, “Beyond the fact that the stories are exasperating, it’s not hurting business or becoming too much trouble.” Even as I say the words, I’m aware that might change.

This tabloid is implying that I’m abusing McKenna. Regardless that it’s not true, the public loves a witch hunt. I’m aware how a scandal like this could ruin my reputation. And just like that, I can’t help but see the amusement in all this. For years, I’d been worried that the tabloids would print true stories about me, embarrassing my family and putting a stain on my life. Yet, right now, I’d rather they told my dirty little secrets instead of these terrible lies being printed.

I settle the waistband of my pants around my hips, adding, “Believe me, if these stories become a bigger problem, or are keeping customers away, I will deal with this tabloid.”

“Good enough for me,” says Dad. “You know, I’ve got a friend out there in San Francisco who deals with entertainment law, Ross Sterling. You might want to reach out to him. He’s got a grudge against the tabloids and would love to work alongside you, I’m sure.”

“Why a grudge?” I press my hands against the sink, staring down at my phone.

Dad’s chuckle is well amused. “Ross found himself in this tabloid once. It didn’t end well for his marriage, but he didn’t have enough evidence at the time to threaten them. Since this reporter is talking abuse now, you might have a stronger case.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, and I will. Because once this shit is all over with Evan, and I know McKenna is safe, I will deal with the tabloid. “Would you perhaps reach out and let him know that I might be calling, explain the situation?”

“Of course, not a problem at all.”

I roll my head, easing the muscles. “Any further advice for how I deal with this?” I ask my father.

“Just get it put to bed,” he says. “Neatly, and as quickly as possible. These things have a way of spiraling out of control.”

“I think it’s already done that, don’t you?”

“It can always get worse, son.”

“Now that’s not a settling thought.” I snort.

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” my father says gently. “But it’s nonetheless true. You need to get on top of this, or find out why they’re hounding you. There must be a reason.”

I happen to know those reasons, but (a) the conversation would take hours and (b) my father doesn’t want to hear all my dirty little secrets. Some things are better left unsaid. “I’ll stay on top of it.”

“That’s all we can ask.” A pause. Then, “All right, now that I’ve pleased your mother with the conversation I didn’t want to have,” says Dad, a smile in his voice. “I see that this girl is special to you.”

I pause, staring at myself in the mirror, seeing the dark circles beneath my eyes that are slowly becoming darker every day that goes by. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I’m your father. I see the way you’re looking at her. I know that look, and I’ve never seen that look on your face before.”

In the truth that’s always been between, I state, “Yeah, Dad, she’s special.”

“Will you bring her home to see us?”

I pause, considering that. Life feels uncertain now, definitely rocky, but where it came to McKenna life felt entirely certain. “Yes,” I decide, “when life is calmer, I’ll bring her home.”

“Then I’ll look forward to it. Be well, son.”

McKenna

“Yeah, Dad, she’s special.”

I’m standing outside Gabe’s bathroom door, absorbing that declaration with a world of guilt pressing onto my shoulders. The meaning behind those words, the softness in Gabe’s voice, I’m affected down to my bones.