Page 31 of Damaged Grumpy Billionaire Daddy

“Yeah, well… you love Kat.” Carter nods again, “Yes. I do. But I was in love with her for a while before I finally admitted it to myself.”

A thoughtful silence stretches between us, broken only by Connor’s triumphant yell as he sinks a shot. Carter squeezes my shoulder in a silent display of camaraderie before we both turn towards Connor, ready to shower him with praise for his newfound pool skills.

Carter and Chase amble back to the booth, rejoining the girls who are having a lively conversation. Connor and I volunteered to take care of the pool cues. An older gentleman with a cane shuffles past, his steps slow and measured. Connor’s gaze lingers on him even after he disappears around a corner.

“Hey, Son, you alright?” I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did you recognize that man?”

Connor shakes his head. “No, he just reminded me of Graham. I mean, I was just a little kid when he died, but Mom has pictures of him.” A shrug follows, his youthful expression clouded with a fleeting shadow.

With a frown, I ask carefully. “How old was Graham?”

“I don’t know,” Connor mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “I overheard someone say he was too old to be married to my mom...”

“And that bothered you?” I prod, the cue sticks forgotten in my hand.

He hesitates, then shakes his head again. “Not really. It was what they called Mom that made her cry. They called her a gold-digger.” He gives me a soulful look,

“Words can be hurtful, huh?” I murmur, focusing on him only. I pull him into a comforting side hug. I say in a low voice, “Here, why don’t you hang these up?” I hand him the cue sticks, trying to steer the conversation away from his memories.

I blink to dispel the red haze, trying to cloud my eyesight. A small smile begins and spreads across Connor’s face, the past forgotten. If only it were that easy for me, I think, with a scowl. Anna’s past is a tangled web of secrets and betrayal. And it stands between us, casting a long shadow over the present.

Leaving Wild Riders, Connor again rides behind me on the Spyder. I can tell he loves the freedom of the bike, as the wind sails by us. My mind continues to churn over what he told me. I don’t like the picture it paints of Anna. In no time at all, we’re pulling up at Chase and Val’s house. We park the bikes. Chase heads over to us, his cell phone to his ear.

“Hey, Mom asked if Connor wanted to spend the night. We’re headed over to pick up Gabby so we can drop him off.”

Anna and I both look over at Connor. He gives a delighted grin. “Sure, I’d like to spend the night at Grandma’s.” He looks up at me, “We’re going out on the boat tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, that’ll work out perfectly.” I give him a hug, and then Anna leans down with a soft kiss, “Behave. I’ll bring your swim trunks with me tomorrow.”

They pile into the car as we wave goodbye. The ride home is filled with an unspoken tension. I reach down and turn up the radio as I don’t feel like talking.

It’s only after I close the apartment door behind us that Anna stops and turns toward me—a challenge on her face, mixed with a glimmer of what could be hopefulness. It only hardens my heart.

“You named your bike Masquerade?” She asks me, even though it’s not phrased as a question.

I feel my face tighten, “Yes,” I frown down at her, “As a reminder… never to trust too easily.” The words spoken cruelly—like weapons, meant to hurt her. I should feel satisfaction when they do. Her eyes darken as the barbs hit home.

She swallows hard, gives me a nod, and starts to turn away wearily.

Yet, I can’t stop more harsh words from tumbling out, “Gold-digger, that’s quite a label. Makes me wonder about Graham’s age and money. Feeble old man, or just plain old?” Her pale face does little to quell the storm brewing within me. “How old was he, Anna?”

“Why would you ask that?” She demands softly.

I fire back, my voice cutting, “Because I want to know.”

She finally answers in a low but steady voice, “He was seventy-two.”

I feel my lips twist into a snarl. “No wonder you went looking for sexual satisfaction elsewhere.”

Her head jerks backward as if I slapped her. I watch as the rage gathers; her clear gray eyes turn dark and stormy.

“You have no right to judge me,” she states in a furious tone as she moves quickly toward me. “None.”

As she lifts her chin with a defiant look, I suddenly can’t take it. I reach out and pull her roughly into my arms. I silence her gasp with a hard and punishing kiss. I shouldn’t be feeling this overwhelming attraction to someone I don’t respect.

I feel her moment of surrender as she softens against me. I reach up, grab a fistful of her hair, and pull her head back so I can see her eyes. They are still cloudy, but not from anger. “Is this what you want? Does this turn you on, Anna? Do you like it rough? Do you get off on hate sex?”

Her eyes narrow, looking directly at me. “Is that what you need to call it, Carson?” She taunts me back. I tug harder on her chestnut hair, exposing her slim neck, and lean down, my teeth graze over her soft skin. I quickly pull her halter top over her head and push up her bra, exposing her lush breasts. I grasp her breasts with my hands. Squeezing them roughly.

---