Page 8 of Forbidden Game

PARKER: What am I walking into?

PAIGEY: Give dad a call :)

PARKER: Not helpful

PHOEBE: Call dad

PHOEBE: Now

I stifle a groan. All right, that just made things worse.

The cards are slowly stacking up against me, one by one, but I don’t even know what game I’m playing.

Fuck.

My finger hovers over the dial button before tapping down. It barely rings once before my dad’s deep baritone filters through the speaker.

“Took you long enough. You are aware it is almost one in the morning.”

Shit. I forgot they went back to Kensington this week.

“In my defense, I was in a photo shoot the last few hours.”

“I hope it went well. You’ll have to send us the pictures when you can. You know your mother will find some way to frame them.”

“It did, and I will.”

There’s a long pause of silence, and it does nothing to calm the growing worry in my gut. My dad is never silent. No one in our family ever is. We are always in constant communication, updating each other on our lives. Family always comes first for us, and there is no one we trust more than each other. Which is why this entire situation has my insides shriveling.

“Your grandfather is in town,” he finally says.

“He’s in London?”

“No, California.”

I don’t even know the last time my grandfather left the estate in Buckinghamshire, let alone England.

“And what’s he doing in California?” My tone does nothing to hide the impending dread swirling through my blood.

“Getting dinner with you tonight; his assistant should have emailed you the details.”

“He flew all the way to California just to have dinner with me.” I see Sydney’s attention perk up out the corner of my eye. I give her a wink before subtly turning the volume down on my phone. “Any chance you can give me a hint of what to expect?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. Your grandfather has only afforded me the barest of details, but I know the board isn’t too happy.”

“Wonderful.” The sarcasm drips from my tongue.

“Be smart, Parker, and keep your head about you. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The line goes dead, and so does my hope.

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