Page 112 of Faking It

My eyes narrow at him. “I might be homeless, but you’re not getting my business. I repeat, over my dead body.”

“Maybe I should’ve sent you to law school instead of Julliard,” he says thoughtfully. “You clearly have no knowledge of legal terms.”

“I know enough to say this with confidence.” I smile, a big one. “According to the fine print, you can seize every asset belonging to James Carter, Jr.Gideon Cain Photographyisn’t one of them.”

His expression falls as I go on. “Yes, I used Mom’s maiden name.”

Dad sputters, his face reddening even more. He soon recovers, flashing me off. “It might not be worth much, anyway. You can have it. A two-million-dollar property is a huge payday.”

It stings, but I take it with a grim smile. “I hope you sleep better at night. Maybe this will give you the peace you’ve been searching for.”

Oh, it won’t. That’s just me taking the high road. He’s way too evil to find peace anytime soon. If ever.

The front doorbell rings as I head out. The butler beats me to it. Seeing the small group of men dressed in dark suits makes me freeze. I know the Feds when I see them.

“We’re looking for James Carter,” the short one at the front announces, and the butler glances at me.

“Senior,” the short agent clarifies.

“Gentlemen. How can I help you?” Dad’s voice booms from behind me. He comes around and gestures for the butler to let them in. The foyer gets overcrowded within the next minute, with half a dozen stern faces staring at us.

They’re not here to see me, but I’m curious enough to linger if they’ll allow me. What did my dad do to trigger the Feds’ appearance like this?

“Mr. Carter.” Another agent, tall and balding, the sternest of one the group, gestures to Dad’s robes. “You might want to get some clothes on.”

Dad scoffs. “This is my house, gentlemen. I dress however I want. Now, how can I assist you?”

I hear the click of the handcuffs just as they appear from another agent’s pocket. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy relating to fraud and embezzlement. You have the right to remain silent.”

Chapter 42

Ana

Gideon ignored my calls all of yesterday. I’m not surprised. A little hurt, yes, but not surprised. I deserve it. It makes me even more terrified of facing him.

Which is why my palms are so sweaty on the steering wheel as I maneuver the car up Beverly Hills. Repeatedly, I rehearse my apology in my head, hoping it’s good enough to earn his forgiveness, at least. Anything beyond his friendship would be a surplus, something I haven’t earned.

I roll past the mansions with manicured lawns and everlasting driveways while thinking of our last conversation. If only I could go back in time. If only I could stop those nasty words from coming out of my mouth.

Why didn’t I consider a grovel present with me? What do women gift men when they’re sorry, anyway? Should I have tried calling again, instead of popping up like this? What if he’s already moved on to someone else?

The questions play on repeat in my head as I steer my groaning old car uphill, and I’m freaking out by the time I round the bend to the cul-de-sac where Gideon’s house stands.

Stepping from the car, I press a button on the intercom system. “Hey Gideon. It’s me. Ana. Can I come in for a moment? We need to talk.”

Silence.

I press the button again. “Gideon?”

Still, no answer. I glance up the winding driveway, hoping to glimpse his car. Because of the slope, it’s hard to see anything beyond the water fountain. After three more tries, I give up. Best case scenario, he’s not home. Worst case, he’s deliberately ignoring me.

“He’s not here,” a deep voice says, startling me. I whip around to see the tall, blonde security guy who let us in the first night we got here. River. Walking back to the gate, I grip the bars, peeking through.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I ask hopefully.

“No.” He leans against the doorjamb, watching me with a blank expression.

“Can you give him a message for me?”

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