Page 80 of Enticing My Off Limits Billionaire

"Quinn," my mom starts, stepping toward me.

I shake my head and step back.

"Adam and I are both adults," I say. "And at this point...we are each other's family. Dad, I've been more of a father to him than you ever were. And if you care about him, you'll pay for him to be treated at a facility of my choosing in New York until he's confident he can stay clean."

My parents exchange a look, and for a moment, I think they might actually consider it. But then my father shakes his head. "We can't finance something we can't see. In New York, he's on his own."

I can feel my anger boiling inside of me. How dare they act like they know what's best for Adam when they haven't been there for him his whole life? How dare they act like they have any right to make decisions for him now?

"He's not doing it on his own," I say through gritted teeth. "He's doing it with the support of his friends and family who actually care about him. Me...and my friends, and the woman I love... we'll take care of him like you never could."

My mother reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away. "I'm not going to stand by and watch him try to connect with you again," I say. "And I'm done."

"Done with what?" my mother asks.

"This," I say. "I'm going back to bed, and tomorrow, we'll make arrangements to get Adam and me back to the States. Then...we'll go from there."

I turn around and walk away, my heart pounding in my chest. I can't believe I just stood up to my parents like that. But it's like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm in control of my life.

And I'll be taking care of Adam—still, after all this time—but I can reach out to the people in my life to help me.

Adam's not doing this alone...and neither am I.

I make my way back to my room, trying to calm myself down. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to process everything. I'm way over forty fucking years old—I shouldn't be fighting with my parents in the middle of the night, talking about the health and wellbeing of my thirty-something brother.

But here I am, and all I want is to talk to a woman eighteen years younger than me.

I take out my phone and look at the screen, wondering if Madison will be up. It's the wee hours of the morning here, which means it'll be late at night in New York. She's probably already in bed, and I don't want to disturb her.

But she would want me to, wouldn't she?

The phone only rings a few times before she picks up, her voice muffled. "Quinn?"

"Hey, Madison," I murmur, sighing and sitting up.

"Is everything okay?"

I huff out a laugh. "Yeah," I say. "I just...I fucking miss you."

Her soft laugh rings through the phone. "I miss you too, Quinn."

"I know it's late, and you're probably in bed," I say, "but I needed to hear your voice."

"I'm glad you called," Madison says. "How's Adam doing?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "I'm bringing him home."

It takes her a moment to process that, then she simply says, "Oh."

"I take it you aren't happy?" I ask, hesitating when I thought she would be thrilled.

"I'm happy," she says. "I'm...fuck, I can't wait to see you again. But this isn't because of me, is it?"

"No," I say. "It's because Adam needs to be around people who can support him, and I...because I need it. I can't stay here with my family. I need...I need the White Oak Society and Delia, and I need...I need you."

I hear some movement on the other line and then the sound of a tea kettle whistling. It makes me wish I was there with her right now, making tea in my kitchen, holding a purring cat.

Soon, I will be.

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