Page 136 of Reluctantly You

“Not here.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Mitch asks.

It’s Jack’s turn to laugh evilly. “So you’re fucking him, but he doesn’t know who the fuck you are.”

Mitchell looks as if he’s going to fall into the ground and never reappear.

“We aren’t fucking,” he murmurs.

“I can tell you are. You’ve always tried to hide it, but I know exactly what you are,” Jack hisses.

I stand up so quickly that my chair nearly topples over. We’re creating a scene. Everyone is looking, staring, whispering.

I throw down a few hundreds on the table for the inconvenience and then reach out to Mitchell, grabbing on to the back of his neck and helping him to his feet.

“We’re done here,” I spit, and Jack just chuckles lowly.

I may have to burn his house down. I may know someone.

May have to give them a call.

We walk outside, Mitchell stumbling next to me, his gaze straining over his shoulder, looking back at the man who raised him, who seems to feel no remorse for how this ended, for who they are to one another.

How could he just discard him like that?

But then again, that happened to me as well. Parents tend toward shitty. Never met a good one, to be honest.

Mitchell is silent when he slips into my car, his body turned away from me, his forehead resting on the glass.

“Mitchell,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Just tell me what my dad meant. So I can know the truth. I’m so fucking sick of people keeping shit from me.”

I sigh and start the car up, locking the doors so he doesn’t try to make a hasty escape. Then I hit the child locks. Better safe than sorry.

“It’s not as vindictive as you think.”

“Fuck off,” he murmurs, still not looking at me.

“I won’t. You should know that by now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, but maybe I will,” he murmurs and I sigh, my hands strangling the steering wheel. I don’t want to tell him, but I should.

Goddamn Shiloh. He was right. It’s time.

“Your dad and mine were in business together, many years ago. Jack pushed him out when they grew successful.”

Mitchell peers over at me, his face drawn, unreadable. It makes my stomach roil.

Shit, I’ve fucked up. I need him to understand. To know…

“It’s the reason my dad gave up…why he…” I swallow roughly, “Why he got into drugs and then killed himself. He was so mad, so upset. Lost, destitute. He couldn’t move past it.”

Mitchell sits with that for long moments, past several green lights, until finally he utters, “And you blame my dad for that.”

“Yes. I do. He’s at fault. A greedy man with no care for anyone else.”

“And that’s why you bought the company.”

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