“It’s not you,” I tell my uncle assuredly. “I love you. You know I love you. I’m just…” I motion to my head.
Overthinking. As always.
I just never want to be used as evidence for Loren Hale being unworthy or unfit as a father. I never want anyone to look at me and say, Maximoff is just like Ryke, so Ryke must’ve raised him. He must love Ryke more. He must hate his father. What if his father abuses him? What if he’s violent?
It’d be so easy for people to draw that conclusion because of my dad’s past. He’s a recovering alcoholic and has been sober for over twenty years, but his own dad was an alcoholic. The media said my grandfather abused my dad. In different ways. Some are true.
Some are false.
But I don’t want anyone to attach any ugly thing to Loren Hale. Stay back. I swear to fucking God. Stay back.
“What can I fucking do to help?” Ryke asks me. “I want to help.”
I nod repeatedly, and I spit it out. “Which one of you am I most like?” But it’s my dad who answers.
“You’re like all three of us, bud.”
I turn to my dad.
He touches his chest. “You’re sassy like me.” He points at Ryke. “A hardhead like my dear brother.” He nods to Connor. “And steadfast like my one true love.”
Connor grins. “I couldn’t agree more, darling.”
I start to smile. “With which part?”
He surprises me by saying, “All of it.”
I trust that they’re not pacifying me with lies. I nod a few more times. Ready to change the topic to one light-years away.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I suggest.
My dad asks, “How are you doing with your new bodyguard?”
Dear World, are you fucking with me or what? Sincerely, a startled human.
An image pops in my head: me on top of Farrow in the backseat of my car. Since all three of them hire the bodyguards to protect their children, I’m pretty much certain they’d all hear “you’re with your bodyguard” as “Farrow Keene took advantage of you”—and it’s just not true.
It’s why I have to lie. Sort of. “Farrow is annoying, a Grade-A know-it-all.”
My dad’s eyes grow teasingly. “You like him that much?”
I take a swig of water to submerge my smile. He’s just joking, but Christ, it’s real.
“That’s it?” Ryke asks, brows knotted.
I think fast. “We’re cordial. I respect him. He respects me. That’s all there is to say.”
“You’re okay to let him handle your NDAs?” Connor asks, referring to my one-night stands.
“Sure. Yeah.” I nod. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask.” I set my water bottle down. “What’s better, silicone-based lube or water-based?” The last word leaves my lips, and the office door cracks open. I expect Connor’s assistant to peek inside.
…Farrow slips into the office.
What.
I rub my eyes to ensure that I’m absolutely, entirely 100% not fantasizing and haven’t tapped into some secret superpower. Obtaining a magical ability to conjure a newly-minted boyfriend sounds more fucking believable right now.
Farrow zips up his leather jacket, a piece of his bleach-white hair brushing his dark eyelashes. His casual confidence is fucking hot, but this can’t be a fantasy. Because he’s not even looking at me.
He only acknowledges Connor. “Alpha asked me to check the street view from your office. Price said he sent you a text.”
Connor has his phone cupped in his hand. “I saw. Do what you need to.” Wait.
He’s staying? My mouth falls fraction by fraction.
“Thanks,” Farrow says, his eyes flitting to me for a brief second. I barely catch his lips lifting before he faces the windows and surveys the street below.
One-hundred-million-percent in earshot.
My dad pops open a Lightning Bolt! energy drink and lightly elbows my side. “Why do you want to know which lube is better?” No.
No
No.
Fuck.
17
MAXIMOFF HALE
I’m an upright statue. Solidified.
I hoped my earlier question would be forgotten or die. No one ever censors themselves in front of security. I usually wouldn’t care either, but this is the very, very beginning of whatever is going on between us.
I don’t need Farrow to know that I just asked my dad and two uncles about lube. A conversation that I had with Farrow—and I can’t backtrack without appearing suspicious.
I have to barrel forward.
“A friend told me that silicone-based is better. I was curious what you guys thought.” I stomp down the urge to glance at Farrow. I’m not about to let my dad or uncles see that I correlate lube with my bodyguard.
But I imagine his stretched smile and hearing him say, so pure.
My neck scorches. A first-time customer to Mortified-R-Us.
My dad’s brows pinch. “What friend?”
I have friends that are employees and then I have family. I don’t trust anyone else, and my dad is aware. I say the only possibility. “Janie.”
Connor stares straight through me, his fingers to his jaw. “I’m certain my daughter knows that silicone degrades silicone.” He means silicone lube destroys sex toys.
“She has an Asshole With Benefits,” I remind them. “Nate.”
“We know,” they all say, not the biggest fans of Nate either. But they’ve never met him.
I’m the only one who meets the AWBs.
Tabloids post photos of Jane out at nightclubs with the same person. Nate is the fourth and current AWB. They also have photos of those same guys with other girls. Media and fans hesitate to call them “boyfriends” because they’re not.
AWB #1 & #2 wanted his fifteen minutes of fame.
AWB #3 wanted to jump-start his acting career.
And now Nate AWB #4 wants the thousand-dollar bottles of champagne.
Janie always says their intentions don’t matter because she only wants sex and they respect her in bed. Which she struggles to find. A lot more than me. It’s why she can’t just hookup so casually like I can. She has to hang onto the same guy for a while.
But I want Jane to be with someone who wants all of her. Not just her fame. Not just her wealth. She’s one of the best people in this damn world. Beautiful inside and out. And if the guys she’s sleeping with see less than that—then they’re not fucking good enough for her.
Case closed.
My dad makes a scrunched face. “I’d never predict in a thousand millenniums that I’d know my niece’s lube preference.”
“You asked,” I say.
“Regrets.” He puts a hand to his heart.
“Water-based lube is fucking better,” Ryke says. “Doesn’t stain the sheets and feels way more natural.”
Connor arches his brow and tells me, “That’s if you want to listen to the one who hasn’t had anal sex in two decades and counting.”
I risk a glance at Farrow, and he still faces the windows. But I spot the beginning of his out-of-control smile. I tear my gaze off him quickly and look at my dad. He’s not the most perceptive person in the room, and his attention is on his brother and best friend.