Page 47 of Full Circle

I shrugged. “A few things were bound to stick from my other schools.”

The host led us to a private booth in a separate lounge of the restaurant. All of the tables here were far more intimate, with candlelight on each linen tablecloth and heavy curtains surrounding each booth. My father was the only person seated in this particular area, which was probably intentional, but gave me an impending sense of dread. Judging by Celeste’s hard gulp next to me, she sensed it, too.

“Father,” I greeted him as we drew up to his table. A gentleman would have stood up to welcome the new guests to his table, but I could already tell my father’s rage was simmering just below the surface. Maybe I did inherit something from him after all.

Rather than responding, he shot a pointed look at the seat across from him. I guided Celeste in first, scared she would be ordered to leave if I let her sit on the end. She was practically trembling under the disdainful look he gave her and I had to sit on my free hand to stop myself from smacking him across his pompous face. My other arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing Celeste as close to me as possible. My father read into the gesture, casting a furious gaze where our bodies connected, before turning his hateful black eyes on me.

“So my assistant tells me there’s been a substantial sum deposited to two different hospitals in my name today,” he began. “Care to explain, Wesley?”

I rolled my eyes. His version of a “substantial” sum was probably barely one fifth of one percent of his wealth, something he would make back by the end of the night tonight.

“It’s…it’s my fault, sir,” replied Celeste, her voice small. “My daddy is real sick.”

The way his expression changed at her words had me justifying a prison jumpsuit for a few seconds. “And—you are?” he demanded coldly.

She glanced at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m Celeste Hendricks, sir. We met at The Comfy Cushion down in River’s Run a couple years ago.”

My father snorted and didn’t acknowledge a word she said. Turning back to me, he fumed, “There’s better pussy out there, Wesley! I’d expect you to know that by now. Fuck her and move on with your life! I’m not paying millions of dollars for you to get your dick wet.”

Pain flared across my knuckles as my arm snapped back. Blood from my father’s mouth coated my hand before I could think about what I had done. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. “Don’t. Ever. Speak. About. Her. Again.” I pronounced each word as distinctly as possible, my voice like ice.

Two of my father’s bodyguards stepped forward, their black sunglasses shielding their faces. I knew both of them carried guns and neither would hesitate to use them, even on me. My father didn’t give two shits what happened to me. He stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth and glowering at me.

“This ends now, boy,” Father growled. “I’ve indulged your bullshit long enough.”

“The money can come out of my trust, which is money you and I both know you can’t take away,” I replied coolly. “Mr. Hendricks has taken care of me for two years now and is the only adult who has ever cared about me. I will help him for as long as I need to.” I dared my father to contradict me, but he didn’t comment.

“And what will I get in return for paying for all this?” he countered instead.

It threw me for a loop. Father had never negotiated with me before. “What do you want?”

“You to start acting in a way that reflects on the Madden name. Earn your place in this business,” Father replied instantly.

Because it was always about the business. His bottom line never went beyond that. I ceased to be a person as soon as he had to write the first check for my care. I resented him more in that moment than I ever had in my life.

“Fine.” As much as I wanted to stab a stake directly into his cold, dead heart, it would never outweigh my desire to take care of the girl beside me. A girl who I realized too late was absolutely petrified right now.

“We’re leaving now,” I snapped, grabbing Celeste by the elbow. “See ya around, Benny.”

Moving faster than was socially acceptable, I pushed past the maître d’ and kicked open the door to the restaurant before the doorman had a chance to get there. Celeste panted half a step behind me, struggling to keep up as I all but dragged her out to the sidewalk.

“Get me a taxi, stat!” I shouted at the valet. It would take too long to call my driver and by this time of night, it could be hours before he made it back from the airport. What a rookie mistake not to have another on standby for when shit hit the fan with my dad. It was never a matter of if, but when.

“Wesley, you just punched your father!” Celeste yelped.

“Sure did.”

“In the face!” she protested.

“I was there.”

“Wesley!” She gave my arm a good shake, forcing me to stop and look at her, green eyes wide with anxiety.

It was enough to douse the flames roaring inside of me. I slumped forward, all the adrenaline draining from me, and pulled her into a tight hug. Apologizing would be a lie because I wasn’t sorry, but I hated that she had to witness something so ugly when she was already going through Hell.

“Next time I’ll make sure you leave the room first,” I decided.

She giggled into my neck, and just like that, we were both lost in our laughter. I doubled over, clutching my side, as she dropped onto the sidewalk. Her giggles were so deep, they led to snorts, which had us laughing all over again. Strangers passing by were blatantly gawking at us and the valet came over to offer assistance.

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