Page 50 of Her Filthy Mistake

“Carly, stay out of this.” My dad’s face matches my mother’s, but there’s no way he’s backing down. His throat bobs as he swallows.

I slip from my father’s grasp and turn to Jace. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to discuss something with my father, and when I come back, we can talk to each other like adults.”

His gaze doesn’t meet mine as he nods. “Sure.”

I grab his arm. “Everything will be fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t expect that’s going to happen.” His face is devoid of emotion as he and my father eye each other like warring animals in a cage.

“Zoe.” My father’s voice is curt.

“I’ll be back.” I spin on my heel and march behind my father, who looks completely out of place while wearing a suit on the beach. The sand covers half his black dress shoes as he tromps toward the walkway.

When he reaches solid footing, he marches toward the resort without looking back. It would serve him right if I turned around and walked away. I’m tired of his heavy-handed treatment. I’m a college-educated woman with a job. Yes, the job is for him, but I’ve not received special treatment to get the job. I stumble over the walkway. Have I? My heart sputters in my chest.

As I follow behind him, different conversations I’ve had with my boss and some of the other executives flash through my mind. They’ve treated me with the utmost respect. Made me feel welcome. Listened to my musical recommendations.

Fuck. I groan as my dad opens the door to the bar. The cool air jumps outward, causing me to shiver. Or maybe it’s the discovery that every interaction I’ve had at work is a joke. They were kissing my ass because of my dad. Hell, they probably laugh at me behind my back.

Since I was six years old and went to the studio for the first time, I’ve been obsessed. I have the music industry in my veins. It’s what I focused on in college. If the only reason I have a job is because of my father, what in the hell am I going to do with my life? Move in with Jace and eat cheap packaged noodles for eternity?

One bowl might be okay, but after that, it’s cold, mushy, and kind of gross. Please, don’t be dramatic. You can find another job. Maybe not in the music industry, but something. Vegas is teeming with opportunities. And it’s not like Jace doesn’t have a job. He does.

“Drink?” My dad pulls out a chair for me at the table closest to the wall. The room is sparsely filled due to the early hour, leaving the remaining space around us empty.

“I guess. Sure.” I shrug and settle into a chair as he waves over the bartender and joins me. “I’ll take a water.”

He settles onto the chair and orders our drinks, and when we’re alone, he pulls the chair forward and clasps his hands together on the table. Even though he’s not in the boardroom, his physical presence remains imposing. “What’s going on with you and Jace? I told you to stay away from him. He’s–”

“Listen.” I raise my hand to silence him, and I’m slightly surprised when he relents. “Jace isn’t the same person he was in the past. He’s sober and has been for some time. Not that I understand why that matters to you anyway. Several of the musicians under our label have plenty of rumors spinning around that they use before concerts. And every day in between. It’s never been a deal breaker for you before.”

His jaw flexes. “My reasons are my reasons. But go on with your juvenile attempt to sway my opinion.”

Asshole. I fight back the urge to roll my eyes, which would only serve to prove his last comment. “You’re being rude, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“I’m only stating my opinion.” He lifts the glass of whiskey the waiter dropped at the table and lifts it to his lips. “Go on.”

“Fine.” This conversation is not going to go anywhere. But Jace deserves my best attempt to persuade him before we pursue other labels. My head throbs with each heartbeat. I never thought I’d see the day when I quit my job and walked away. But it’s time to move forward on my own with Jace. “He’s good. Two nights ago, he sang out on the beach, and it was amazing.”

“And that girl that was hanging all over him, who was she?”

“She’s a fan.”

“Just a fan?” He taps his fingertips on the glass.

“Yes.” I want to reach across the table and clobber his smug face. How did I ignore his condescending and rude behavior for all these years? I knew he was high-handed and ruthless to get what he wanted, but it had never been directed toward me. Or at least not to this level.

“I want to sign him to the label. He’s always been good enough. He writes beautiful lyrics, and he’s no longer with the band that dragged him down. He’s a good man.” I lick my lips and swallow hard as I twist my still untouched water glass in a circle. I steady my hand to keep it from shaking and knocking over the glass. “And I like him a lot.”

“Sweetheart.” He clasps my hand. “I’m sorry that you’ve fallen under his spell, but he’s a manipulative liar. He’s only here to get close to you so you’ll convince me to sign him to the label. He’s washed up and willing to do anything to earn your trust.”

“That’s a lie.” Anger surges through me. “That’s complete and utter bullshit.” I jerk my hand away and shove my chair back. The legs scrape on the wood floor.

“Sit down.” His eyes flash in anger, and a second later, I’m obeying. No longer able to keep the shaking from overtaking my hands. “You need to listen to me.” He yanks out his phone, twists it to face me, and swipes the screen open. The photo on his screen is of the woman and Jace on the beach after he sang.

“You aren’t showing me anything I didn’t already know. I saw her come up to him.”

“Really?” He arches his eyebrows and swipes the screen. “You knew he was pawing all over this woman earlier in the week? That he was all over her?”

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