Page 35 of The Bargain
“You won’t. You’re the reason I’m going to try to work things out with my father again.”
“I’m not the reason. You were already thinking about that loose end when I spoke it out loud. And if I’m going with you, I need to go say goodbye to my father. I’ll see if he can have breakfast with me.”
“Don’t forget your passport.”
“Right. We just talked, and the idea of talking to my father has me rattled. I’ll try dinner tomorrow night.”
“Are you going to tell him about me?”
“I don’t know. I think I just need to feel him out.”
“You think he’s going to push back?”
“I’m not worried about him pushing back. I’m worried about hurting him. I feel like the secret I’ve kept will feel like a betrayal to him.”
“I doubt anyone would have told their father about a one-night stand that, for the record, was never a one-night stand, but you thought it was at the time.”
“But I should have told him I saw you there. Maybe that we connected, and I walked away because of who you are. I just didn’t see the point. And now it feels a bit like telling him you believed in me and not him.”
He rotates to face me, and his hand settles on my knee. “First, he knows I believed in him. It was the situation he’d gotten into that was messy.”
“What does that mean?”
“He had too much debt. It was bad timing for what I’m trying to achieve right now. And I regret walking away now that I know more about him through you. To that point, if he is the man I’ve seen through your eyes, he’ll be happy for you. And he’ll be upset that you felt the need to keep all of this from him. My two cents, but you need to call him for dinner and consider seriously confessing. Guilt will eat you up if you don’t, and the damage might be real if you hold this back for too long. If you decide to tell him, just be honest. Your reasoning is that of a loving daughter, but don’t let it linger and fester.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. “Do what feels right. And on that note, I’m going to settle into that chair I spied in your bedroom and do some work.” He stands and walks away, and I’m aware of his ploy to offer me privacy to talk to my dad. I’m stunned and pleased by his ability to be dominant and demanding in bed but unassuming in both my work and professional experiences with him.
There is so much more to Ethan Dalton than I ever imagined possible. He’s powerful and influential, seemingly always incontrol, but beneath it all, I believe he’s broken. And so am I. We’re either going to save each other or destroy each other, probably the latter, but I can’t seem to see any path forward that doesn’t include him right now. Nor do I seem to want to, anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sofia
Ireachformyphonethat’s in my pocket and punch in my father’s number, nerves jumping about in my belly as if I were about to confess Ethan to him now, which I am not. He answers on the second ring. “Honey, did you make it official? Are you going to Paris?”
“There are a few contract negotiations that came up. It’s a long story, but it should all be done by tomorrow. If that all works out, which I believe it will, I’m going to leave Friday morning.”
“Okay, whiplash. What now? What is happening?”
“Nothing bad. It’s all good, Dad. I have to pick up my passport in the morning and take care of some last-minute stuff at the store. I went to their offices today, but I couldn’t get it until morning. Can we go to an early dinner to talk about it?”
“Sure, honey. I’ll move around a few things, and we’ll do it. My place?”
“No, that little Mexican place we both love.”
“What time?”
“Five?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
We disconnect. I start playing out how this conversation might go in my head, and I start freaking myself out. I want to just go see him now, but I’m not sure that’s the right move. I’m emotional, and I know it, and I’m surprised at how much I want to talk to Ethan. I rush toward the hallway and step into the doorway of the bedroom to find him sitting in that chair he’d mentioned, his phone in hand, and I can tell he’s not pleased with what’s being said to him through what must be his earpiece. He sets the cell on the arm next to him and runs a rough hand through his thick dark hair, and I swear, I can barely breathe for fear there’s a problem related to the Zoey brand but I chide myself for making this about me. Ethan’s trying to start a new empire, and I’m only a tiny piece of that puzzle.
“No,” he says. “One hundred fucking percent no. The end. I’m done with this conversation.”
I’m frozen where I stand, afraid of interrupting him, when he looks up, his eyes lighting on me, and I swear my stomach flutters with his attention. He motions me forward as if he understands my hesitation and then says, “Done means done.”
I close the space between me and him, and when I start to sit on the ottoman, Ethan pulls me down in the chair beside him, draping my legs over his lap. “You’ll figure it out,” Ethan says to whoever he’s talking to. They exchange a couple more words, and Ethan ends the call, his focus on me. “Did you talk to your father?”
“Yes. Dinner tomorrow night. That didn’t sound good.”
