Page 51 of Protégé King

I’m about to walk to my father’s office to have that conversation when he appears in the doorway. He’s a tall man, thin, with impeccable taste in suits and watches, and brutality in his blue eyes. “Hello, son.”

I lean back in my chair, casual, unaffected by his presence, when the truth is I’ve hated him since I was a young kid, something not even Alana knew. I kept it all close to my chest, afraid he’d find out I spoke against him and he’d make me pay.

He walks toward my desk and sits down, propping his feet on my desk, crossing one foot over the other, his red soles on display. “It seems you have something to tell me.”

My lips curve, my entire demeanor amused, when I really want to rip his balls out through his throat. But he doesn’t know that. He can’t know that. Because he doesn’t know who I am or how I operate anymore, beyond me being the enemy he made me long ago. I am also the man who took control of half the company from afar and garnered attention he meant to ensure I never knew. Between that and my last name he gave me, I am also the one person who threatens his seat on the board. “You mean that I’m fucking Alana Blue,” I say flippantly. “What of it?”

He sits up, anger dropping his brows. “I told you to stay away from her. She’s a distraction you don’t need when you’re in the middle of a hostile takeover.”

I laugh. “Okay. I wasn’t aware fucking and making money didn’t fit together for you. No wonder Mom left you.”

“Leave your fucking mother out of this,” he growls.

I’ve hit a nerve. He loved her. He just treated her like shit, as he does everyone. “You certainly did,” I say dryly. “Alana’s a distraction for Mary Morrison. They know each other.”

I could, at this point, tell him that I’ve secured the votes to dismiss Alana’s loan in exchange for her help with Mary Morrison, a structure that looked more business than personal to the board. But that would look personal to my father, and I’m not allowing him to get himself inside this until after the votes are official.

His lips press together. “How, exactly, do they know each other?”

“Alana sold her a property and Mary is fond of her.”

“Oh, Christ. Alana Blue always makes you stupid. She literally leads you around by the dick. You do know that if you tell the board you need the help of a real estate agent, who you are fucking to complete a hundred-million-dollar deal, you’ll look like a little bitch, right? I’d reconsider your actions.” He smirks. “But I always told you I’d let you dig your grave, son. Dig.” He chuckles. He gets up and walks for the door.

At this point, I’m pretty sure my father is the one who had the press follow Alana and me. I also suspect he got wind of her joining the dinner tonight, which most likely came from someone on Mary’s staff. He may even have an idea of my bigger plan to unseat him. If he believes I’ll succeed, he’s already planning to destroy this deal to save himself. The question is what?

I’m beating him at his game. He knows it.

Now this game gets real in a dangerous way.

He’d crash a hundred-million-dollar deal if it saved himself, and I have a feeling that is exactly what he intends. He’ll paint it as if my distraction with Alana was the problem. He probably called the press to catch me leaving early this morning in yesterday’s clothes. He’d be more than willing to leak Nick Blue’s gambling problem to play into that narrative, and he probably will.

He has a plan.

The question is what?

And how do I turn it against him?

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Alana

I’m a wreck on set.

I forget my lines, I trip, I even spill a coffee all over a desk. I don’t even want to know how much of all of it will be kept for the integrity of “reality tv” premise that is just a premise. It’s not real, and I’m not sure what is in my life right now. When we finally break for lunch, I can’t even go to my office for an escape. It’s all set up with mics and cameras. I have a trailer and I escape to it, and collapse on the couch inside. There’s food on a table waiting on me, but I ignore it.

My mother has lost herself. My father is outside of anything I recognize as him. How could either of them come at me on set?

And Damion—I just don’t know what to think about him. All my life I’ve been waiting for him to be my hero. And he was, wasn’t he? He saved my family ten years ago. He’s saving us now, again. Isn’t he? But that’s not what I mean.

I stand up and start pacing.

Is he really helping me or is he helping himself? He says let’s get naked, and I strip on command. He says. I do. I’m like my mother now, too in love to say no.

My trailer door opens, and I whirl around to find Damion standing there, looking deliciously male as always. I’m clearly incapable of seeing the man and not having that thought. I’m at his command and it has to end. If it doesn’t, I will never know what is really going on between us. I mean, I’ve told him I love him—sort of—and he has never said those words to me. All he says is goodbye. And even that was in a letter.

He steps into the trailer and shuts the door. “Alana.”

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

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