Page 91 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

His words hit me in the chest. In an ideal world, yes, parents would want their children to be happy. It’s never been that way with my mother. No matter what I have done for her approval, the hoops I’ve jumped through, the sacrifices I’ve made to the altar of Chloe—it hasn’t been enough. It never will be. The one good thing about Dad whisking me off to France is that I’m out of her reach and ignoring her calls and texts. She flipped out over the wedding planning and my maid of honor duties, saying that Chloe’s wedding trumps my “little vacation.”

But Dad isn’t like Mom. He does want me to be happy—in fact, he’s told me this a thousand times, in a thousand different ways.

What he doesn’t understand right now, though, is that Lincoln and Caleb were a part of my happiness. Loving them, feeling loved by them—that was happiness, for me.

Can I convince him that there was more to it than what he is obviously struggling so hard not to imagine?

Even scarier: if I try, is he going to turn his back on me?

I couldn’t bear it.

He’s leaving Paris tomorrow morning, to go back home for a couple of weeks before another trip. If I want to talk to him, it has to be tonight.

* * *

Lincoln

Caleb drags me to Low Vice. Apparently Margot wants to install swings in a couple of the playrooms, and she needs us to consult on weight-bearing beams and whatnot.

“She has the prints, it’ll take two seconds,” Caleb says. “Don’t make me go there alone.”

“Coward,” I say, but without any weight. I wouldn’t want to go alone, either. With feeling so raw after Evie’s departure, and seeing everyone else happily exchanging power, it would fucking hurt.

“Speaking of cowards,” Caleb says as we approach the back entrance, “have you even tried calling Mark?”

“Yes, I’ve tried,” I say as the bouncer lets us in with a nod. “The asshole won’t answer and he won’t text back. I went to his place yesterday morning and he still isn’t home, neither is Evie.”

Low, pulsing bass fills my ears as we step inside Low Vice. I was hoping the place would be nearly empty this early, but no such luck. The first thing I see upon entering is a trio in a booth. One woman sandwiched between two men, their hands roving over her body while she tries not to squirm.

One of the men looks up as I approach, and I’m shocked to see that it’s Chance Wexton.

“Hey,” I say in surprise, nudging Caleb. “It’s Chance and Ethan.”

We talk to them for a couple of minutes, and they introduce their partner, Maisie, who does her best to hold a conversation with Chance’s hand between her legs, underneath the table. I immediately imagine coming here with Evie and doing something similar.

Poor Maisie looks like she’s trying to hold back an orgasm. By unspoken agreement, Caleb and I make an excuse and walk away.

“I didn’t think they’d ever make a play for someone,” Caleb comments when we reach Room Three, where Margot wants to add a swing.

“Good for them. Glad they found someone they seem to really like.”

He doesn’t answer, but I know he’s thinking we’ve found someone we really like. But she isn’t here.

I want nothing more than to hold that little girl in my arms. I’ll give her my heart. I’ll give her the fucking world.

She isn’t coming back, though, no matter what Caleb might hope.

* * *

Evelyn

“Dad,” I say over our dessert, “I need to talk to you about something.”

We’re in Antoine’s friend’s restaurant. Antoine begged off, saying he had another engagement. I suspect he’s trying to be a gentleman and give me space after my broken heart revelation earlier today. His friend, however, has treated us like absolute royalty. He sends dish upon dish for us to try. This must be what Antoine’s idol, Princess Ruby, feels like when she goes out to eat.

She probably acts more like a proper lady, though, while I’m shoveling mousse au chocolat down my gullet like a bear gearing up for hibernation.

Dad sets down his fork and looks at me calmly. “You can tell me anything.”

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