Page 169 of Auctioned

But unlike Camden, my son is a bright one.

He puts two and two together, his pale blue eyes darkening. They latch onto mine, doubting. Accusing.

Loathing.

Unflinching, I stare back at him. My son won’t threaten me. No one will.

Only her.

Only ever her.

My heart is about to leap out of my chest. It’s a lot of work to keep my pulse in check. To lock down my possessiveness and jealousy.

He has no claim on Ophelia.

Never has.

She was always meant to be mine.

I don’t so much as blink.

In the front of the SUV, Miley sounds pleased with what our client is telling her. “Sounds great. Nothing to worry about. We’ll be there in thirty and talk some more. Good. Good. Yes. See you there.”

Topher holds my gaze for the rest of her conversation. Murder bleeds from him, tainting the clean air in the car. His left eye twitches.

He’s far less restrained than I am. Hasn’t had practice with it.

When you have an abusive father, you become an expert at playing his sick mind games.

I’ve been too lenient on Topher, I realize. He doesn’t respect me. I assume he never will.

I dare him to say something. Anything.

An excuse for me to end him here and now.

Until Ophelia came along, our connection had been the closest thing I’d had to love in my life. He’s my son. My blood runs in his veins.

In my world, that counts for something.

I should be protecting him. Saving him from his own self.

I had.

He’s all grown up now.

Every lawyer, judge, and jury knows that adults are tried as one.

His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. Shoulders square.

When I give him nothing, he nods, twisting toward Camden. Whispering in his ear. Speaking so low that I can’t hear what he’s saying.

A grave mistake. He should know better than to turn his back on his opponent.

I slide the lock of Ophelia’s hair into my pocket. Looking straight ahead, my lips curve up.

He should know better, true.

Yet here he is, failing.

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