Page 59 of Broken King

I know a thing or two about that myself.

So I don’t pull my punches. “I’ve been in love with your sister for years. The timing’s never been right before.”

“And now?”

I push up from my chair, standing toe to toe with him. “Now it’s time to make it right. Scarlet’s mine, Max. Scarlet and our baby.”

“She’s gonna give you hell, you know.” A hint of a smile pulls at his mouth. “She’s not going to make it easy on you.”

She never did. “Nothing worth anything in life is ever easy. And your sister is worth everything. Not sure how long it’s going to take to convince her of it. But luckily, I know a thing or two about not giving up before the bell rings.”

“When do you guys go back to the doctor? I’m worried about her. She’s tired. She’s had two migraines in the last two weeks. Bad ones. She had to go home to sleep them off. And that’s not like Scarlet.”

I wonder if this woman realizes how many people love her and want to look out for her.

“I’m worried about her too. Scarlet needs to watch her stress and take better care of herself. We see the doctor Saturday. We’ll see what she says.”

He runs his hands over his face. “She’s not watching her stress at all. I’ve been having her run point on the Revolution acquisition. Everything I’m setting her up for is going to be an exercise in stress management. Controlled chaos. There’s not going to be a single easy day for the next two years. We won’t even be officially closing the damn deal for at least another month, and it’s already consumed all of us.” He stops, then opens his mouth to speak but thinks better of it.

“Don’t do that. Your sister will tell you what she can and can’t handle. Scarlet’s not shy, and she’s not stupid. She’s probably waiting to see what happens before she talks to you.” There are very few people in this world I’d be this sure of, but I have no doubt Scarlet knows her limits. She may need a little help accepting them. A little more voicing them. But she’ll have me to help with that.

“I’ll give her a week, Cade. But she’s got to come talk to me...” He leaves his words hanging. The threat of him talking to her. Of her finding out one more person just spoke about something that should have been hers to discuss is lingering.

“She’ll talk to you.” She has to.

After I tiptoe out of Brynlee’s bedroom later that night, my cell phone ringing downstairs has me running as quickly and quietly as a man my size can. My daughter hates going to bed. Fucking hates it. She’s like the princess in “The Princess and the Pea.” She needs more pillows. She needs Teddy. She needs water. The house is too quiet. She’ll always feel that one tiny little pea at the bottom of the mattress.

I have about two point five seconds before she wakes up, bitching that the house is too noisy.

I left my phone on the island in the kitchen, and when I come to a stop next to it, Imogen is holding it in her hand, having just silenced it. Her face is pulled tight in anger. I look down, surprised to see Daria’s name flashing across the screen, and furiously swipe to answer.

“Nice of you to call me the fuck back, Daria. Want to tell me why you were sitting in front of my house a few weeks ago, then went radio silent when I called you?” Anger courses through my veins. There are few things in life I hate, but this woman is one of them. She gave her daughter away as if she were a toy she’d had enough of. For the rest of her life, Brynlee will know her mother didn’t want her. I’ll never be able to change that for her.

“Hello, Cade. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know where you live.” Her voice is sugary sweet, and I can picture, from memory, the cunning look painted on her face.

“What do you want, Daria? Why have you been calling the gym?” I don’t have time for this bullshit.

She sighs, as if this were an inconvenience. “It’s nice to know that club rat sister of yours has given you my messages. So, you were just ignoring them then?”

“You’re not supposed to be calling at all, Daria. No contact means no contact.” I’m already over this conversation.

“Cade...” she tries to purr. “She’s my daughter too.”

“No. She’s my daughter,” I answer, my blood boiling. “You signed away any right you had to her three years ago. What. Do. You. Want?” Imogen’s eyes grow wide at the fire raging in my voice.

Then both of our eyes fly to the quiet knock at the front door.

We turn to the security system display sitting on the built-in desk in the kitchen.

Scarlet.

My eyes meet Gen’s in silent understanding, and she moves to let Scarlet in while Daria rants on the phone. The two women couldn’t be any different if they tried.

One who hid my daughter from me because I couldn’t love her.

The other not ready to hear that I’ve never loved anyone else.

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