“Whole thing?”
“Ya know, the fancy building, the sexy boyfriend, the happy Mia.”
With another smile, I pull her into me again and drop a kiss on the crown of her head. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Me too.”
“And for the record, I like the happy Mia part,” I add.
Tilting her head toward me, she skates her lips against my chin and repeats, “Me too.”
My phone rings, pulling me from sleep as I shift on the couch. Mia is snuggled into my side, and a notification is centered on the television screen, asking if we’re still watching The Bachelor. Nala snores softly on Mia’s opposite side. The familiar buzz sounds again, and I shift, taking my phone out of my pocket.
It’s my father.
Careful not to wake Mia, I slip away from her and answer the call, keeping my voice low. “Hello?”
“Did you see the article?” my father asks.
I scrub my hand over my face, attempting to wipe away my exhaustion, but it doesn’t do shit. “What article?”
“With the photos of you and Mia outside your building.”
That quick, huh?
After my conversation with Mia, I called Gordy and told him to stop screening any articles of me, but I figured we at least had another day or two before someone found out about us and deemed my relationship worthy of an article or photograph.
Apparently, I underestimated them.
My laptop is on the table, so I open it, search my name, and almost instantly find the article my father is referring to.
“Henry,” he starts.
“One second,” I mutter as I scan the article.
Billionaire off the market. OnlyFans extraordinaire. Official couple. The words blur together, and I snap the laptop closed.
“What about it?” I ask.
“You have nothing to say?”
“No.”
“So, it’s true?” he prods.
I glance at Mia on the couch, curled in the fetal position with Nala tucked behind her legs. Warmth spreads in my chest, and my mouth tugs up on the sides. “Yeah. It’s true.”
“I told you to stay away––”
“Did you not learn anything after meddling with Evie’s love life?” I challenge, mentioning my younger sister. Our father pushed Evie to date Troy for years, basically creating an arranged marriage for her since my father was business partners and best friends with Troy’s dad, Dick McAdams. But it blew up in his face.
“Was she really a sex worker?” my father demands.
I let out a slow breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes and no.”
“Explain.”
“Not sure it’s any of your business.”
“The Buchanans––”
“Toe the line,” I finish for him. “And, yes. I understand falling for a girl who used to have an OnlyFans account might reflect badly on the Buchanan name. I understand Mia being connected to Troy in any way might reflect badly on the Buchanan name. I understand you prefer I end up with someone who comes from money so you don’t have to question your future daughter-in-law’s motives.” I glance out the window, taking in the skyline and stars shining in the sky. Its beauty reminds me of the girl asleep on my couch and gives me strength. “But I need you to understand I love her. I love Mia Rutherford. And you have no control over who I love. Who I marry. Or who I choose to protect with our family name.”
His silence is deafening, but I don’t break it. Instead, I wait. For his opinion. His assumptions. His declaration of war or the gauntlet I have no doubt he’s considering throwing down if I don’t handle this conversation with care.
I stare out the large windows at all this world has to offer those willing to take it and simply wait.
“So you noticed?” my father prods. “The article mentioned potential stalkers––”
“I’m aware,” I grit out, giving the window my back. “And, yes. I noticed. I’ve been aware of her situation for a long time, but it doesn’t change anything.” I hesitate and scratch my jaw. “Or maybe it does. I’m not afraid to give her my last name. Not afraid to make a formal statement warning anyone foolish enough to come within a hundred feet of her without her consent, repercussions will be handed out by the Buchanan name.”
“And you think it’s wise?” my father asks. “To put your name, your status, your family’s status, on the line for her? For someone with her background?”
“Didn’t even need to think twice,” I return. “Is it a problem for you?”
He hesitates, and I know we’re at a crossroads. I know this conversation could go either way. I know this could make or break our relationship. Straining or strengthening it with a single word. Because if he says yes. If he says my relationship with Mia is a problem, I’m done. We’re done. I’m not going to let Mia go. I’m not going to let her down. Not even for all the money in the world or the connections my father can offer.
“Is. That. A. Problem?” I grind out, the silence leaving me impatient.
A voice on the other end of the call sounds, but I don’t register who it belongs to or what’s said. “We’ll discuss this later,” my father breathes out. “Goodnight, son.”
Annoyance burrows under my skin, and I end the call, dropping my arm to my side when I catch movement from the couch. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. Mia isn’t sleeping anymore. She’s staring at me, her expression unreadable.
“Hey,” I rasp, unsure how much she heard or how much damage control I need to perform to keep her from hating my father.
She swallows, and her lips part as if she wants to say something, but she’s simply unsure if she should.
“Say it, Mia,” I push.
“Did you stand up for me?”
My eyes fall to my phone as I set it on the kitchen table and nod.
“To your father?” she clarifies.
My chin dips a second time.
“How did he––”
“There was an article,” I explain.
“What did it say?”
“It said I’m the luckiest man alive.”
Her mouth lifts, and she shakes her head. “Liar.”
I don’t deny it.
“Did you really say you want to give me your last name?” she asks.
Of course, she would overhear that little nugget.
“One day,” I tell her.
Chewing on one of her cuticles, she gives into her anxiety, watching me through her dark lashes. Letting her hand fall to her lap, she asks, “Are you serious?”
With a smirk, I round the edge of the couch and sit beside her. “Is that a problem, Brat?”
“We just started dating.”
“Dating, yes. Falling for each other?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and tug her into my side. She instantly melts against me. “Hardly,” I continue. “Don’t worry. I’m not afraid of the long game. One day can be as soon or as far away as you want it to be.”
Snuggling against my chest, she releases a sigh and plays with the hem of my T-shirt. “Thank you, Henry. For standing up for me. For being patient. For everything.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I kiss the top of her head. “It’s late. Get some rest. I’m going to let Nala outside one more time. I’ll join you in bed after.”