Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

Fury erupts over her lie. There’s only one such video—the one Aaron made. But Edgar said he took care of it, so there’s no way she can have it. “Stop trying to play games. You don’t have anything.”

She pulls her phone out from her purse, taps the screen a few times and shows me the video.

Air seems to solidify in my lungs. I don’t have to see more than two seconds of it. It’s the same damned thing Aaron held over me.

“How the hell did you get that?” Edgar sounded so confident when he said it wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“I have connections.”

Shit. Edgar said his family and Aaron’s did some business together. She must know Aaron and somehow got him to hand it over.

“Don’t you think it’ll be embarrassing? What father wants to see his daughter like that?”

“Shut up,” I reply, because I can’t think of anything better to say over the shock and rage churning inside me like jagged glass.

She raises an artfully arched eyebrow. “Is that how you speak to your elders?”

The delicate, elegant air slides off her like a snake’s skin. Yuna’s right. She’s a complete bitch. And I’m so pissed off that Edgar didn’t really take care of it. If he had, Aaron would’ve never given it to Margot. I don’t want my parents seeing that trash after I told them the video won’t be a problem. It’s like double the humiliation—once for the video and again for incompetence.

“Well?” Margot says.

“I’m going to work.” It’s all I can do to refrain myself from slamming the door shut, but I don’t. I’m not giving her the satisfaction.

I’m going to do my job. And do it well. Then, after I get home, Edgar and I are going to have a talk.

Chapter Fifty

Edgar

While Jo’s gone, I sit in my home office and review the project reports from Blackwood Energy. Everything’s a hot mess at the company, and under any other circumstances I would’ve stayed in Tempérane. However, Dad had Paul botch a deal on purpose to pull me back into town. He thinks I don’t know. But the stunt is so ridiculous, I’d have to be a lobotomized idiot to not realize what he’s done.

I wonder if this is how things are going to be. Dad trying to drag me and Jo to Tempérane, no matter what. But why? He wants to get back with Mom, and he knows I don’t approve. It would be a hundred t

imes easier for him and Mom if I stayed in Los Angeles indefinitely.

Reputation.

Appearances are everything to Dad. If all of his children leave—and not even the wealth of Blackwood Energy is going to be enough to keep us in town—people are going to wonder. And then they’ll gossip. They remember what Mom did. They remember a girl died, and Mom denied her family the closure they deserved for a decade. They also remember Tony was exiled all his life, and Court left soon after to be in L.A. to be closer to Tony…and away from Mom.

I send my notes on the reports to Paul, keeping my communication short and to the point. Reaming him isn’t going to accomplish anything. Every organization has at least one rat. If Paul had said no, Dad would’ve found somebody else.

My phone rings. I tap the Bluetooth earphone automatically, thinking perhaps it’s Jo.

“Edgar,” I say.

“I can’t believe you humiliated your own mother!” Dad’s voice thunders in my ears. “And in front of all those people!”

I sneer, even though he can’t see me. “Did she run to you and cry prettily?” I say, controlling my temper. It’s a waste of effort to show him how I really feel, because he doesn’t care.

“She didn’t run to anyone! I asked!”

He means she manipulated him into asking. It isn’t that hard. All she has to do is sigh, sniffle…perhaps shed a tear or two. “Did she mention that she showed up at Tony’s home uninvited?”

“She’s his mother! She doesn’t need an invitation.”

He’s blustering. He knows he’s being unreasonable. What she did to Tony and Ivy is unforgivable. Isn’t that why Dad divorced her in the first place—to show Tony he wasn’t a total monster?

“Of all the people in the world, she is the one who needs an invitation,” I say, my voice frigid. “She doesn’t get to come to any of our homes.”