Page 9 of Finding Forever

He truly despised this fucking prick.

That was when Cade recalled the other thing the man had said, aboutinvitingher to join them for dinner. Didn’t she usually have dinner with her family? Why would she need an invitation?

And why the fuck was her stepfather still in control of her trust when she had to be at least twenty-five already?

“Ugh, Fern the scallops are rubbery,” one of her stepsisters—Cade couldn’t tell one from the other—suddenly whined, and Cade blinked. Why were they treating her like the hired help? What was wrong with these people?

“Are they?” She—Fern—sounded genuinely upset at the prospect, as she stared down at her plate ofcoquilles St Jacques. “I’m so sorry, you must have received a bad one. Why don’t we get you a new?—”

“Mine’srubbery too,” the other one sneered, before pushing her plate aside in disdain.

“Oh. I—I’ll ask Chef to fix…”

“The scallops are perfect.” James Hawthorne’s gruff voice interrupted abruptly, surprising Cade somewhat. His father rarely championed anyone. He preferred gutsiness, people who could stand up for themselves. Fern Lambert—seemingly fragile and vulnerable—appeared to be the family doormat. And James Hawthorne had no patience or respect for doormats.

Cade—even though his appetite had disappeared at the sight of her—forced himself to pick up his fork and take a nibble as well.

“Mine are great too,” he said, mostly in the hopes of getting her tofinallylook at him. He was rewarded with the slightest of head tilts and brief flicker of her eyes in his direction. He glowered over at the two women seated across from him, beforestating firmly. “You must have received a couple of bad scallops.”

Cadewas the one who nodded at a nearby server to disappear their plates and replace them with fresh scallops. The man obeyed without question, but Cade could swear he caught the glimmer of a smile on the server’s stoic face. If nothing else, Fern Lambert appeared to have the affection and respect of the staff here.

Abernathy, oblivious to—or more likely uncaring of—the seething tension around the table tucked into his entree with gusto and regaled them with the story of how he’d nabbed hisaward-winningchef away from at least three otherextremely wealthyinterested parties.

God, he was a tedious blowhard.

As the dreadful meal progressed, Cade remained acutely aware of the woman in the chair beside his. She hadn’t spoken since the entree course, and none of her family members paid any attention to her either. Instead, she kept her gaze fixated on the food in front of her, and studiously ignored both Cade and his father.

His brain was seething, as he thought back to the night they’d met and tried to recall what about her had initially grabbed his attention. Had she deliberately sought him out? No, he’d approached her. But had she done something subtle to catch his eye? He’d been intrigued by the way she’d shied from the limelight. He’d liked that… had appreciated it. It had been idiosyncratic enough to make him want to know more about her.

But had she known he would react that way? Was this all some elaborate ruse hatched by Abernathy to somehow fuck up this deal? He couldn’t figure it out. And didn’t like feeling like he’d been manipulated. And seeing her here this weekend was too much of a coincidence to be anything but deliberate.

But to what end?

His gaze wasboring holes into her skin. She’d hoped to speak with him before dinner. Had hated to simply appear because she knew how it must look to him. Her stepfather was… he wasn’t a good man and he was known for using every weapon in his arsenal to get his way. Fern wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Cade Hawthorne now consideredherone of those weapons and would be wary around her and suspicious of her motivations. It would make her own mission that much harder to accomplish, but shehadto try.

Meeting his eyes, trying to convey her lack of deceit in some way would help, but now that she was in the same room with him, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She found sitting this close to him—smellinghim, feeling his body heat—distracting and disturbing. And she knew she really needed to get it together if she wanted to make this work and present her case in a straightforward, appealing manner.

Dinner passed in an uncomfortable blur. She excused herself before they’d finished dessert, escaping to the kitchen to ensure the staff had the clean-up in hand. She knew she didn’t have to check; they’d done this hundreds of times before, they knew what was expected of them. They didn’t need her. But she’d been unable to sit there a moment longer.

Now she stood in the kitchen, arms folded over her chest, sensible shoes kicked off, while she leaned against a cabinet, eyes shut, and let the soothing bustle and noise of the kitchen flow over and around her.

She was comfortable here.

After her mother’s death, it had become her refuge during school holidays. These people were her friends—her real family—and she could trust them enough to relax around them.

Someone—she wasn’t sure who—pressed a mug of warm milk into her hands and she stood with her hands wrappedaround the ceramic, relishing the way the warmth seeped in through her cold fingers.

They left her alone, not speaking to her, knowing that she needed time to recover from the ordeal that passed as a family dinner around here. Whenever she was at this house, she ate with the staff, running the dinners smoothly from behind the scenes, but occasionally Granger liked to trot her out in front of the guests like some prized pony. Reminding them what a wonderful man he was to takecareof Fern and her business interests.

She’d hated it when she was a child, she despised it even more now… because he made her feel like a beholden orphan, someone who owed him her very life and existence. When, in fact, he did whatever he wanted withhermoney, funding his and his daughters’ lifestyle and his own business with the money her mother had temporarily entrusted to him onFern’sbehalf.

She took a sip from her drink and sighed in contentment as the soothing warmth heated her from the inside out. This was a temporary peace. She’d have to find a way to speak with Cade Hawthorne tonight and the only way she could think of to do so was in his room. Where she hoped to find him alone. If he took Allie up on her very obvious overtures—she ignored the pang ofsomethingthat lodged in the vicinity of her heart at the thought of Cade with one of her stepsisters—then Fern was highly unlikely to get him alone tonight. She only hoped he was really as uninterested as he’d appeared during dinner.

If not then this—her last opportunity to take control of her life—would die tonight.

The meetingafter dinner had been as frustrating as Cade had expected it to be. Whatever the fuck cat and mouse gameAbernathy was playing was getting old. If nothing was resolved tomorrow, Cade would advise his dad to cut his losses on this one, and move onto their second choice. There were other sustainable building options out there. Lambecrete just happened to have a business ethos that gelled with HC&E’s. They’d have to make very few changes to the company once they acquired it. It would be the perfect fit, which was why they’d been willing so far to play Granger Abernathy’s twisted little power games. But HC&E was ready to move on after this weekend. And they needed to make that very fucking clear tomorrow.

It was close to midnight, and Cade was unable to sleep. He stared down at the brightly lit pool from his room window, tempted to a grab few more laps but the certainty that one or both of Abernathy’s relentless daughters would follow him down there was enough to keep him right where he was.

---