Page 111 of Faking It

Someday.

Throwing the phone on the seat next to me, I start the engine and go off. River opens the gates for me, waving slightly as I drive through. My thoughts coast from Ana to the next important task onmy list, finally facing off with my dad.

Tomorrow will be a day of reckoning for one of us.

***

“You have some nerve, showing your face in my house,” Dad growls as his butler’s back disappears around the corner. “After the way you disrespected your aunt, I have a mind to throw you out.”

As I move calmly past him, a bundle of pink suddenly appears in my peripheral vision. Two bundles of pink, actually. Her Pomeranian perches in her hold, wearing a matching pink robe.

“Hello, James,” Dad’s mistress—I refuse to call her name—greets me. Her eyes do a quick scan of my body, lingering for a beat down there before shooting up to my face. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“It’s a pity I can’t say the same,” I reply dryly, earning a soft gasp from her.

“That’s not the way to talk to your stepmother, boy,” Dad says gruffly. “Apologize.”

“I’m a grown-ass man, not a boy,” I shoot back. “And she’s not my stepmom. Are you aware thatmy mother—your wife— will be coming home in a few months? Is this the shithole she’ll be coming back to?”

“Oh, James, you know I can’t stand the drama. Neither can Bella. It’s going to stress us both,” the mistress complains, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead.

Bella yaps in agreement. I roll my eyes. No need to cue the fucking drama. It’s already here in full supply.

“Baby,” Dad says softly, moving over to her. “Why don’t you and Bella relax by the pool for a bit? I’ll have Esmerelda prepare lunch and a pitcher of margarita.”

Her face brightens. “Sounds relaxing. Thanks, honey.” She kisses his cheek, then looks me up and down again, this time with a sneer. I glower back, my dark expression making it clear I don’t like her.

The hem of her robe billows as she sails out of the room, and I settle myself in the loveseat, throwing my leg over the other.

“Why are you here?” Dad asks.

“Just wanted to save you and the Sheriff’s office some trouble,” I reply. “I expect that summons is being prepared as we speak, am I right?”

The fact I haven’t heard from him since walking out on Aunt Cheryl speaks volumes. I know my father. He’s most quiet when he’s getting ready to strike.

Dad chuckles, but there’s no humor. He crosses his arms on his chest. “Like I told your mother last night, you should’ve been a girl. You’re weak. You’ve always been weak. Look at you, already giving up.”

His comment doesn’t faze me. I stare back at him, smirking. “You call it giving up, I call it letting go. You have no power over me after this, Dad.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I give him the fiercest stare I can muster. “Call on your debt. Take my house. Your days of controlling my actions areover.”

I brace for the fit of rage, for him to start throwing things when realization starts sinking in, but instead, I get a loud laugh. Puzzled, I stand as he clutches his stomach, guffawing until his face reddens.

“Your house?” he chuckles. “Read the fine print again, Son. It says, ‘your assets’.”

“That’s right. You can take my car, too. Plenty of cabs in LA.”

He cocks his head at me. “I know about your little photography company, James. I’m taking that, too.”

It doesn’t surprise me that the cat is out of the bag after my cover got blown. Talking to an attorney made me realize I had nothing to worry about. “Over my dead body.”

“Do you not understand what ‘your asset’ means? Everything. I’m taking everything.”

I sigh patiently, closing the short distance between us and getting in his face. “Your cold-heartedness used to bother me. It made me want to work extra hard to please you. It took twenty-six years on this earth to realize nothing I do will ever be good enough. You’re evil, pure evil. Why? I don’t know, and I don’t care. What I do know is that you’re going to die old and miserable, knowing you didn’t ruin me or Mom despite your best efforts. Oh, you tried, and you almost succeeded, but you’ll never win.”

“This isn’t a competition, James. It was never about winning. I’m the lion, the head of this family. You’re the sheep who should be taking orders from me—”

“When I was a kid, yes. Not as a grown-ass man. I’m an adult. I decide how I live, not you. The same goes for Mom.”

“Don’t worry about your mom. You’re the one who will be homeless, not her,” he replies, laughing again. “Oh, and out of business because I will be selling whatever asset is tied to your shitty company.”

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