Page 24 of Broken Grump

“So, you . . . you have a daughter,” he whispers.

I pick at a new callous caused by the paintbrush that was in my hand for hours before their arrival.

“I do.” Eventually, I make fierce eye contact with him again.

He looks at the opposite corner of the room, and I can see his jaw clench. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I scoff—I’m embarrassed that I’ve been caught with egg on my face. But I’m also enraged that he feels like Iowehim an explanation.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you never wanted to see me again after your father died.”

Talk about a dark day.I never thought I’d come back with a tail between my legs. I still remember how he screamed at me, demanding that I leave and never show my face again.

Fighting through tears, I say, “What was it that you called me again? Oh, yes. A drama-craved harlot.” I point my finger in the air. “That’s it.”

He sighs and throws his head back. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve . . .” he’s stumbling on his words, “I never should’ve said that.”

I cross my arms and narrow my gaze. “Feeling guilty now?”

“But, you—” His lips curl in, his eyelids fall, and his head tilts.

Oh, hell no.Clearly, he still doesn’t believe in my innocence over his father’s death.

Adjusting his vintage tie, Steven clears his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to attend to.”

I’m not sure if that’s a lie or not, but I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to escape. He likely doesn’t know what the hell we’re talking about, after all.

“I never went to any reporters,” I declare with confidence. “I wouldn’t do that, Hayden.”

“Oh, no?” He stands and smacks his strong hands on the desk.

“Then who did, Adriana?”

Nice touch.He knows how much I hate my full name.

“Hell, if I know! But I can say for absolute certainty that it wasn’t me.”

Hayden bites the inside of his cheek. “After all these years, you still just won’t admit it.”

My throat feels dry in frustration. “Why won’t you just believe me?” Suddenly, I’m that same young girl standing outside his giant mansion. Scared, pregnant, and alone.

But this time. This time. He can’t be the one to tell me to leave.

“I think you should go,” I finally proclaim.

But instead of starting to walk out, he takes a seat again.

What the hell?“I’m not going to just let you stay here in my home and continue to accuse me of something that I had nothing to do with, Hayden.”

He doesn’t respond for several moments, and he instead rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and glares at the fingers he’s rubbing together.

“How old is she?” he asks.

I rub under my eyes. “Excuse me?”

Those treacherous yet irresistible green eyes blink up at me. “I asked how old she was. Your daughter.”

“Oh.” Internally, I’m deciding whether or not I should lie.

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