Page 16 of The Caress

I laugh as I walk over to take a couple of the bags from her. "Just us for now, I’m afraid. Maybe you could have gotten away with it if you hadn't packed like you were moving in—"

The words die in my throat, and my smile instantly fades when I see my mother appear a few steps behind Saffron.

"Mother?" I ask through clenched teeth as if she might be a figment of my imagination. As if I could get that lucky. "What are you doing here?"

She draws herself up and rolls her shoulders back. gives me an imperious look that I know all too well. She came here ready for a fight. "What? No hugs and kisses for your dearest mama? I wish I could say I was shocked."

I cut my eyes in Saffron’s direction, but she suddenly seems extremely interested in one of her luggage tags as she slowly inches toward the door.

"And I wish I could say I’m shocked that you’ve invited yourself out here with Saffron and Isla," I shoot back. I didn’t plan on fighting with anyone today, but what can I say? My mother has a special knack for bringing out the worst in people.

"I don’t need an invitation," she huffs. "This is my house.Mypersonal property. If anyone needs permission to be here, it’s you." Her eyes flick past me, then narrow slightly. "You and your nanny."

Okay, now I’m pissed.

Yes, this is technically still my mother’s property, but she hates it here. I guess her need to control my life and every move I make outweighed her dislike of this place, though.

"Leave Ella out of this," I growl, glancing back over my shoulder to see Ella and Isla. Saffron is huddled near the door and hanging on every word. Clearing my throat, I throw my sister a pointed look. "There’s tons of food in the kitchen, sis. I’m sure you and Isla are tired after your flight."

She nods and reaches for my daughter’s hand, but Isla clings to Ella’s leg and shakes her head. "I’m not going anywhere without Ella."

"I’ll come with you," Ella smiles down at Isla and ushers her toward the door. "Your dad is right. There really is a bunch of yummy stuff in the kitchen." Then, in a playful whisper that masks whatever other feelings she might be having, she adds, "And since he’ll be out here talking to your grandmother for a few more minutes, you might even be able to sneak a candy bar or some ice cream before we have lunch."

That was all she needed to say. Isla takes off with a whoop, leaving Saffron and Ella to follow while I turn my attention back to my mother.

"She shouldn’t be here," she says before I can get another word in. "You know I think she’s a bad influence on my granddaughter." She scowls. "And on my son."

"Yes, mother," I sigh. "You’ve made your opinion perfectly clear on multiple occasions. We’re all well aware of how you feel and what you think."

"And yet you continue to flaunt your affair at every opportunity. It’s almost as if you want to be called out in the tabloids and bring shame to our family. It’s a miracle you haven’t been sued yet."

"Sued?" I grunt, half-turning to go back inside. I was already annoyed to see her, but this conversation is quickly turning that annoyance into anger. "By whom? For what? Are you really threatening to sue me because you don’t like one of my employees?"

I don’t know why I even bother asking, since I don’t care to hear the answer. Maybe just because I know how much it irritates her when she doesn’t have the last word in an argument.

After all, there’s no question where I picked up that particular unflattering personality trait.

"Lord help us." My mother casts her eyes up to the sky as if she’s actually religious. "Have I really raised such a fool? I’m not the one who will sue you, Keiran. Not over this, anyway. But you really are a damned fool if you can’t see the power imbalance between you and that girl you’re sleeping with. The fact that you insist on paying her only makes it worse. Mark my words, your name will be showing up in the tabloids with one of those sexual harassment hashtags before you know it."

I’m tempted to ask how long she had to practice before she was able to insult multiple people at once while feigning concern for those very same people, but somehow, I manage to hold my temper in check.

Barely.

"We’re done here, Mother," I say instead, "You’re welcome to stay for lunch, but I’ll arrange for my driver to take you to a hotel this afternoon. I’m not going to be lectured every time I turn around. I’m not going to let you insult Ella at every opportunity, either. If she wanted to sue me, she would have done it already. God knows we’ve all given her plenty of reasons."

"No," she says, because of course she isn’t going to go quietly. It was worth a shot, but I’m not as foolish as she likes to think. I mostly just want to put her on notice that I’m not going to listen to her lies and insults anymore. "I’m not going anywhere. If anyone is going to leave, it’ll have to be you. And you can take Ella with you, but I’ll be keeping Isla here with me until further notice."

I’ve started walking back inside, but that threat stops me in my tracks. "Be careful," I warn her, my voice dropping low as I turn to face her again. "You’re playing a dangerous game. It’s not one you’ll win."

"Are you sure about that?" She arches her brow. "You have no friends. Your family is on the verge of disowning you. There’s talk of a no-confidence vote at NewsCorp because you’ve been out of the office more often than not. Who do you really think will come out of this situation looking better? A disgraced man who is sleeping with the nanny? Or a loving, concerned grandmother who just wants what’s best for her family?" She lets the words hang in the air for a moment before sweeping past me. "Think about that the next time you want to threaten me."

Fuck.

It’s like my ex-wife and my mother are in a competition to see who can be the most devious and disgusting. Right now, I think my mom might actually be winning.

She won’t take Isla from me, though.

I’ll fight her until the bitter end. I’ll expose every lie and every dirty deed she’s ever done. I’ll ruin her, even if I have to destroy my own reputation in the process.

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