Page 98 of Playboy Pitcher
“Nope.”
“Then find some extra credit,” I bite out between clenched teeth.
Her eyebrows bunch in confusion, and then her face suddenly brightens. Flashing Ben a wide metal grin, she gives me a very obvious thumbs-up.
Real subtle, sis.
“Later, Playboy,” she says. Grabbing her phone, she leaves the room, humming a very off-key rendition of “Going To The Chapel.”
Ben stares after her long after she’s gone. “That kid’s going to run the world one day.”
I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure she already does. Hey, you want to take a walk?”
Turning back around, he answers with a salacious grin. “Mrs. LaCroix, are you trying to get me alone?”
Rounding the table, I stop next to him and cock my hip. “Guess you’ll have to risk it and find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben takes my hand,and we walk out to the gardens of my father’s estate. For being the first of March, it’s still beautiful out here, serene and peaceful, not to mention immaculately maintained. It’s amazing what money can buy even after death. Checks are still being written to groundskeepers I have no idea even exist.
If you want something bad enough, everything has a price.
Touché, Dad.
We walk in comfortable silence, but I know it’s just a blanket for the inevitable. He came here for a reason. Sure, I introduced him to Emma, who, for some damn reason, he already knew, but that’s just the surface.
The secret? The truth?
That goes much deeper.
As we come to a clearing, there’s a brilliant fountain surrounded by a horseshoe of concrete benches. Letting out a resigned breath, I nod for him to sit, and then lower myself beside him.
“I’ve told you Brigitte was a drug addict. It was bad when she was married to my father, but after the divorce, when she got deported back to France, it got worse. She blew through the settlement and her alimony. Whenever Dad was home, she’d call demanding more. I’d hear them arguing for hours. Even five years later, he kept sending her more money, and I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Willow, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do. Just let me get this out, please.” He nods, and I continue, that final call ringing in my ears like it was yesterday. “I was already looking for an escape after my breakup with Drake. Then Brigitte called. This time was different. Dad was different. He was upset. I’d never seen him like that.” Sighing, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Dad always had a bad habit of putting people on speaker phone. Personal, business, it didn’t matter. It’s eventually what ruined us.”
I close my eyes, the sounds of her screams and demands filtering through my head. Then came the threats, and the voice that changed everything.
“Brigitte threatened to kill both of them if he cut them off.Both of them.That’s when I heard this tiny little voice in the background. In French, of course, so I didn’t understand much, but one word is the same in any language. Mama.”
“Emma,” he rasps, squeezing my hand. “Willow, is she Roger’s?”
I shake my head. “No. My dad had a vasectomy after my mother died. Brigitte didn’t even know who Emma’s father was. Probably some guy she fucked for a little white line.
“You went to France for Emma. To protect her.”
“Brigitte was a neglectful bitch. She was no mother, Ben. She was ecstatic I was there. With me around, she didn’t have to pretend she gave a shit anymore. She OD’d a year later. I was at Bas’s when it happened.”
“Then how…” I watch the truth dawn across his face. “Oh God, Emma found her.”
I nod, blinking back tears at the memory of the little girl curled up beside her dead mother, stroking her hair. “She was only six, Ben. Luckily, the mind is its own bodyguard and blocked out the whole ordeal. She doesn’t remember any of it, and I want it to stay that way. That’s why I cut you off back there. She deserves a happy life. She knows her mother died. She doesn’t need to know the details.”
“So, you got custody of her and have been raising her as your sister for ten years?”
“Sheismy sister,” I say fiercely. “Sharing blood doesn’t make a family. You said that yourself, remember?”
