Page 74 of Finding Forever

That gentle, unguarded man was dangerous to her emotional well-being. She needed to protect her heart from him. Because it would be very on brand of her to fall in love with a man just because he was a considerate, generous lover. A man who would in no way ever find himself reciprocating whatever blown out of proportion feelings she’d developed for him.

That thought was the one that finally killed her bright smile. She was happy last night had happened and grateful she could take that experience into future relationships with her.

But it was all that could ever happen between her and Cade. They both knew that.

Cade had foundhimself unable to sleep after leaving Fern alone in her room five hours ago. Instead—feeling restless—he’d gone out for a run. After returning, he checked his emails and messages. Mitch—evidently eager to prove that he could manage without Cade’s supervision—had sent only a brief text informing him that the finalized Greenleaf contract had been emailed. Nothing more, nothing less. And aside from the actualemail—which Mitch had cc’d him on—there was no other work correspondence.

That left Cade at loose ends for the rest of the morning.

He wished he’d taken the time to have some of his latest amateur horology projects boxed up and sent to this apartment, but he hadn’t expected to be here this long. He wouldn’t have minded the distraction of the vintage pocket watch restoration he’d been working on for the last few weeks. No point in having them sent now, he and Fern would be leaving here soon.

He made an energy boosting berry smoothie—setting some aside for Fern—and then retreated to the patio with the drink and his laptop.

He reclined on one of the loungers and did more reading on the physical and emotional changes and challenges pregnant women faced.

He was just learning about the disgustingly, but accurately, named—as he’d discovered thanks to some images he would never, ever be able to unsee—mucus plug, when his phone pinged.

He eagerly ditched the laptop, hoping to scrub some to the visuals from his brain with whatever distraction his phone presented.

It was a text from his father:

Dad

Fucking Abernathy did an interview with Liam Marsh. It’s not good. PR recommends you respond with a few of your own. The happy, newlywed couple etc. Call Petra for details. She has something lined up already.

It was unusual for James Hawthorne to send a message like this himself. He would usually have left it to Petra—their PR guru—to contact Cade directly.

Cade frowned down at his phone, considering the terse message, before typing a response.

How bad?

Dad

Fucker is practically accusing you of kidnapping the girl. Saying she’s emotionally and mentally frail and vulnerable.

He’s been saying shit like this all along. What makes this different?

Dad

Heavy implications of sexual manipulation and physical abuse.

Cade stared at the screen in disbelief and fury.

What the fuck?

He should have known Abernathy would go there, but somehow, he hadn’t even considered that the man would stoop so low.

His phone rang. His father. It figured, the old man found texting tedious. He preferred barking directly at the person on the other end of the line.

Only his father’s voice was strained, tentative, and—alarmingly—quietly apologetic.

“I’m sorry, lad,” he muttered, sounding uncomfortable. “We should have seen this coming. Protected you better. Fuck, come to that should have just closed the deal and moved on. Left the girl out of it. She’s proving to be more trouble than she’s worth. But I didn’t think the dirty prick would resort to blatant fucking fairytales.”

“We’re not exactly dealing with a man of integrity here, Dad,” Cade said with a sigh, squeezing his nape as he tried toknead away the rampant headache that had instantly lodged itself at the base of his skull. “What’s the damage?”

“It’s left the Greenleaf people shaken, they’re hemming and hawing over the contract.”

Fuck!

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