Page 39 of Seeds of Malice

I hesitate, then state, "You have to understand, I'm a Carrington."

"I know you are," she says.

I continue, "But you don't know. You have no idea what it means to be a Carrington every day. It's not all fun and games. In fact, most of it is horrible." I look away again and take a long sip of my champagne.

She cautiously asks, "Why would it be bad?"

I sigh. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Dax, please tell me what you meant," she begs, playing right into my hand.

I wait a moment and turn back. "It means that people are going to lie about me, Ivy. They have it out for me. I know it seems like having my life would be easy, and I'll admit certain parts are nice. I have money. My family is well-known. But with that comes a target on your back. And there are a lot of people who've tried to harm me. They lie about me, and they say things that aren't true. Cindy's no different. It's why I broke up with her. It's why I've broken up with all of them."

Ivy gives me a look filled with pity, making me giddy.

I add, "There are a lot of girls who make shit up about me. They all want money or power. I've even had girls claim they were pregnant before, and we had never even slept together."

Horror fills Ivy's face.

Jesus, this is easier than I anticipated.

"Dax, that's horrible," she bursts out.

I nod and keep a sad expression. "Yeah, it is. I've had to get DNA tests. And do you know what that's like when your parents don't even believe you?"

Her shock intensifies. She asks, "Why wouldn't your parents believe you?"

I clench my jaw and stare at my champagne once more. My anger is real this time. I tell her the truth. "Because my father hates me. My mother doesn't like me much either."

"What? Why would they hate you? Surely they don't."

I finish the rest of my champagne. "It's complicated."

"Well, why don't you try me? Maybe it'll help to talk about it," she says, with hope in her eyes.

I sigh, reach for her hair, and push a lock behind her ear. "Can we change the subject? Maybe a different time we can talk about this."

She hesitates, then nods. "Okay, if that's what you want."

"It is what I want. I want to know more about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Can I ask you anything?" I question.

Anxiety fills her eyes, but she agrees. "Okay."

"Good. I don't think we should have secrets between us. Do you?"

"No, but you just told me you didn't want to tell me about your parents," she points out.

"I'll tell you. I just... Well, it's kind of like your dad. I need time to put the words together and figure out how to voice it to you. Does that make sense, gorgeous?"

She ponders my statement, then nods, and a soft smile forms on her lips. "I guess I understand."

"Good. So, do I get to ask you some questions to get to know you better?"

"Sure."

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