Page 36 of Broken Rules (The Elites of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy 2)

“You would’ve found a way with or without Emmett’s cooperation,” I shoot back. “You took the Elites down. But maybe that wasn’t enough for you?”

“Thomas and I had an old score to settle.” He clears his throat and leisurely swirls the stirrer in his drink, as if murdering a man was no big deal. “That’s over and done with, and I have no interest in Jameson now. Beyond you.”

“Ha!” I laugh out bitterly. “That’s rich.”

“Ophelia,” Emmett mutters under his breath, nudging my leg under the table.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just a little hard to stomach, sitting here and listening to you claim to have any interest in me,” I sneer, hating the way my voice wavers with overwhelming emotion. “You didn’t want anything to do with me until the Elites tried to use me against you. And who knows how you would have solved that problem had Emmett not stepped in and offered to take me captive instead.”

He sinks a bit in his chair under my accusations, but keeps a calm and collected demeanor. Overall, he seems completely unaffected by my obvious hurt, which I’m not surprised about. I just wish it didn’t sting so much, and that he’d stop lying to our faces by claiming to care about me.

“I’m not proud of many things in my life, Ophelia,” he explains slowly, staring off at his line of boats on the bay. “But that’s in the past. All I can do now is try to move forward and make things right.”

“And exactly how do you plan to do that?” I snap harshly, but the man who greeted us interrupts, whispering something into my father’s ear.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Theo stands with a gentle smile, seeming relieved from the excuse to escape. “I have to take this call. It’ll only be a moment.”

I am still fuming when the sliding door shuts behind him. Emmett immediately hunkers down next to me, his breath smelling like chile liqueur.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses into my ear. “We didn’t come here to berate the man!”

“This is pointless, Emmett!” I snap back in a hushed tone. “Just as pointless as talking to Vivian or Lily. If he did do it, he’s not going to tell us anything.”

“Do you still think he could have something to do with my sister?” he asks earnestly.

“I don’t know.” I bite my lip and shake my head. “We can’t rule him out yet.”

“Well, then…let’s take a look around his house,” he suggests.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I snort. “That’s not going to seem suspicious at all. ‘Hey, estranged dad who I hate! Can we just rummage through your house really fast, having just accused you of kidnapping!?’”

“Exactly why I wanted you to control yourself while he was here before,” he scolds. “Just follow me.”

I follow Emmett as he slides in through the back. We are of course quickly greeted by the man working in my father’s home. “Need something?” he asks.

“Just the bathroom,” Emmett replies.

“Ah, yes. Of course.” He steps aside and motions down the hall. “Second door on the left.”

We follow his directions, noting that my father’s office is just to the side of us. He casually shuts his door for privacy when he sees us walk past. Once we’re down the hall and out of sight, Emmett nods for me to go ahead into the bathroom.

“I’ll look around first, then you take a quick turn and see if you find anything,” he whispers.

I try to stall as much as I can in the bathroom, doing everything as slowly as possible. I would sample any bath products lying around, but my father is a classic bachelor. Only keeping the essentials on display, none of which include hand lotions or moisturizers.

After a few minutes, I hear a slight tap on the door. Emmett is waiting outside. “That’s probably as much as I can look around without taking too long,” he tells me, stepping inside the bathroom to take my place.

“Find anything?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

“Look for any sign that he may have been in touch with Bernadette. Look for notepads laying around that could have her number written down on it or something,” he instructs in a whisper.

“My dad’s not stupid,” I hiss. “He wouldn’t leave stuff like that just lying around. Especially knowing we were coming here.”

“Take a quick look, but don’t go through anything too much and don’t get caught,” he continues, ignoring my doubts. “Look for any weird doors or passageways with a lock on them,” he orders before shutting the door.

I nervously step through the few small rooms lining the hall. There’s a big living room on one end, and what appears to be my father’s bedroom on the other. The space is clean and minimal, but I can see the line of expensive clothes in his closet with lavish leather shoes and designer sneakers to match. My father is trying to look like any ordinary coastal guy out here, but I can see the signs of the other side to his life.

There is another bedroom near his that looks like it hasn’t been used any time recently. Nothing is out of place. There are no strange doors or anything that could hint at him holding Bernadette hostage. I try to take in as much as I can, but am only met with the occasional framed photo of my father standing alone at various places from his travels.

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