Page 162 of The Billionaire's Baby

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I open my mouth, and he holds up his finger.

I sigh, then hunch my shoulder. "Fine, fine," I grumble. "Have it your way."

"So..." he pivots and walks through to the living room of the suite. "What are you drinking?"

"We," I snap, "we are drinking."

"I don’t indulge." He turns to face me over his shoulder. "You realize that, right?"

"Surely, a glass of whiskey is allowed?"

He nods, then pours amber liquid into two glasses. He turns and offers one to me.

I raise my glass, "Salut." I down it, top myself up again, throw that back as well.

"You trying to get drunk?"

"What do you think?" I chuckle.

"I think it's a bad idea. Not that it's going to stop you, but if you're going to do something tomorrow—"

"I'm not."

"You mean you're going to stand by and watch her get married to someone else?"

"She made her choice." I glance down into the depths of my glass. "I'm fine with it."

"Are you?"

I nod.

"So why are the knuckles of your hand white?"

I glance down, force myself to unclench my hands. I place the glass back on the bar. "There," I growl, "happy?"

"You're not thinking straight."

"And you are?"

He nods, "Most assuredly, I'm seeing clearer than you."

"So, what would you have me do? March in there and throw her over my shoulder and get her out of there?"

Silence.

I glance up to find his gaze boring into me.

"What?" I grumble. "You going to tell me what you are thinking?"

"You know what I'm going to say." A smile ghosts his lips.

"I can't read your mind, Father," I mutter. "You may as well spit out what you’re thinking."

"You need to do what's right for you."

I stare at him. "That's all you have to tell me?"

He tilts his head. "That's all you need."

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