Page 86 of Misconducts & Temptation

Lola's face twisted in rage as she pushed herself to her feet. "He'll come crawling back," she snapped. "You'll see."

"No," I said firmly, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination. "He won't."

She glared at me one last time before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I took a deep breath and turned to face Keaton's father.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"With all due respect, sir," I began, choosing my words carefully but speaking with conviction, "I know you invited her here. And while I'm doing my best not to take it personally, I think you should know that I'm in this for the long haul. I'm Keaton's wife. And while I understand you don't like how our marriage was handled, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to manipulate either of us by involving her."

Mr. Douglas's eyes narrowed as he studied me, clearly taken aback by my defiance. For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, each second stretching longer than the last.

"I don't understand the nature of your relationship with my son," he said, his voice laced with skepticism. "Surely, you can understand my doubts."

"Sir," I began, trying to keep my tone steady, "I know I've been with your son maybe less than two weeks, but even you should know Keaton wants nothing to do with Lola. She betrayed him, and that's important to Keaton. All he wants is respect."

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He has to earn that."

"By doing what you tell him to?" I challenged. "How can he be his own man and follow your strict rules at the same time?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I know you're threatening his inheritance if he doesn't work for you," I said, standing my ground. "I'm sure you're close to it, considering he didn't marry Lola."

"He's rebelling," Mr. Douglas replied gruffly.

"He's finding out who he is," I told him. "Have you seen him play hockey?"

He opened his mouth but then looked away, unable to meet my gaze.

"He's amazing," I said softly.

"You don't know him," he replied coldly. "He's angry and violent. You're a good little actress, but he'll scare you off."

"No." I shook my head firmly. "I understand his anger. Heck, I'm angry for the same reasons. He doesn't scare me, sir. I won't leave him. I… I understand if you don't trust me. But just know, I'll prove it to you. I just ask that you give him a chance to be his own man without dangling an inheritance or pulling strings."

"He hasn't had to earn anything in his life," he snapped.

"That's not true," I countered quickly. "He's had to fight for your approval every minute, and you still haven't given it to him."

"And what do you think I should do?" he asked snidely.

I paused, taking a deep breath before answering. "You should watch him play and see for yourself just how amazing he is," I said earnestly. "He taught me how to drive today. He protected me when I was attacked. He's a good man, sir. And I think you need to stop pushing that idea away. He may not be what you envisioned he would be, but that doesn't make him a disappointment."

Chapter 26

Keaton

Ishoved my way through the locker room doors, my chest heaving. The cold air hit me like a punch, sharp and unforgiving, but it was exactly what I needed. Out here, on the ice, everything else faded away. No father barking orders, no Lola scheming her way back into my life, and no Elodie haunting my thoughts.

Skates laced up tight, I stepped onto the rink. The ice was pristine, untouched. Just like I wished my life could be. I dug my blades in hard, propelling myself forward. Speeding across the surface, I could almost pretend I was free.

The anger bubbled up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. My father’s voice echoed in my head, telling me how important this engagement was for our family. Marrying Lola would secure our business interests, he said. But all I heard was a lifetime of chains clinking into place.

And then there was Elodie. She had no right making me care about her. She was supposed to be just another face in the crowd at Crestwood, someone insignificant. But every time I saw her struggling with those stupid locker room chores or getting sneered at by her stepsisters, something inside me twisted.

She was my wife. Was I hardwired to care? Fuck, if I knew.

My skates sliced through the ice as I veered sharply to the left, nearly crashing into the boards. Dammit, why did she have to get under my skin? Why did her eyes have to hold that defiance and vulnerability that made me want to protect her?

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