Page 69 of Tainted

“You going to Nova’s?” he asked, glancing over at me.

“Nah,” I said, exhaling slowly. “Take me home.”

I wanted to, but Zara didn’t know this side of me, and I didn’t want her to meethimlike this. She was safe and that’s all that mattered for now.

12

Kenyon

Iwould’ve much rather had Zara put her feet on me and finally get some rest, but keeping my word was important. He requested Sydney’s presence, and she had requested mine, so I was in a custom black suit playing my part.

Sydney’s frame tensed as she watched her father canvas the room with his signature fake smile. The soft clink of glasses and silverware served as background music.

“I wish you would’ve made time to get your hair done,” she complained, giving me a final once-over.

“I was preoccupied with other shit. If it’s a problem, I can go home.”

“I don’t want to argue tonight.”

“You look too good for that anyway,” I whispered in her ear, and my words relaxed Sydney in her elegant red dress like clockwork.

She hooked her arm through mine as we navigated the crowd. I would’ve rather spent my night doing anything but listening to District Attorney John Jackson woo potentialsupporters. He couldn’t do that without Sydney because he built his campaign around family values.

“Thanks for coming with me. You know how much I hate these things.” Sydney slipped into the seat, and when I sat beside her, she leaned in, smiling up at me.

“Shit me too.”

“Look at him,” Sydney’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

A cluster of wealthy donors and local politicians surrounded John. My Pops used to be one of them. He didn’t mind playing the part and shaking hands with all these cracker’s wondering how the fuck he made enough to even stand in the room with them. Eric didn’t come from generational wealth or go to fancy private schools but still ended up being in the same rooms.

John was in full campaign mode, shaking hands and flashing his trademark smile. When he spotted us, his smile dimmed slightly as he excused himself from his guest and walked toward our table.

“Sydney, I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“Dad,” Sydney replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Why don’t you go say hi to your mother? She’s been asking for you,” John smiled.

Sydney looked between us, sensing the tension, but it wasn’t until I kissed her cheek that she complied.

“Come,” he motioned as his shoulders turned. “Have a drink with me.”

I followed John to a quiet corner, away from the prying eyes and ears.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?”

My eyes squinted, trying to locate the fuckin’ point of his question. It had to be a hidden message, or maybe he was losing his mind.

“What are yours?”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter motherfucka. Is this suddensupportall for your campaign, or are you finally stepping up to be a father?”

He looked around to make sure none of his guests could see the real him bubbling at the surface, “Don’t tell me shit about being a father when yours never got to take its first breath.”

John was trying to bait me. I knew it, but my clenched fists struggled to hold my composure. The way he spoke about my child answered my question. If he cared about Sydney and knew how deeply it hurt her, he would’ve never said that shit out loud.

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