Diary of a Bad Boy(98)

“It seems like you haven’t changed. I stuck my neck out for you and slapped my name on yours as a sponsor.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “I expected more from you.”

“Dad.” Sutton tries to pull his arm but Foster moves forward, closing the space between us.

“When I first met you, Roark, I knew you’d bring my business and image to the next level. You lift athletes up and help portray a positive image around them and yet, here you are, still drinking, still getting in fights, hiding goddamn secrets.” He takes another step closer, getting in my face. “Dating my daughter and not saying anything to me.” He shakes his head. “I thought you had more respect for me than that.”

“Dad, please. Don’t—”

“No, Sutton. Not now,” he says to her, causing her to step back with a sob.

Foster focuses his barely contained fury back on me. “You’re not the man I thought you were, and you’ll probably never be the man I believed you had the potential to be.” He looks me up and down. “There is no way I’ll let my daughter date anyone less than what she deserves. And you, Roark, you’re nowhere near her level.”

Retreating, he takes Sutton by the shoulder and guides her back to the restaurant. “Sutton,” I call out. But it’s not love I see in her tear-filled eyes when she briefly looks over her shoulder. Is she angry too? Disappointed? She turns and follows her father into the restaurant, leaving me alone on the streets.

Fuck.

I wipe at my nose again and then look up at the sky, wondering what the hell just happened. How did I go from teasing and joking with my girl to being kicked out of a high-end restaurant with bloody knuckles and nothing to show for it? What the fuck? I’m itching to punch something . . . someone. That fucker better not show his face outside.

You are nowhere near her level.

Words I never wanted to hear validated. But there they are, falling from Foster’s lips. They ring truer than anything I’ve ever heard.

There’s at least one thing I know for sure, despite everything Sutton said to me, wanting to be by my side, thinking I’m the man she wanted, she was pretty quick to retreat once her dad voiced his thoughts.





“What the hell are you doing here?”

I look over my shoulder to find Rath with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair in disarray.

“Pouring myself a drink. What does it look like?”

He steps closer and switches on a light, burning my retinas with the brightness. I try to cover up my eyes as I wobble on my feet.

“What the hell happened?”

“What didn’t happen?” I ask, topping my cup to the brim with whiskey. I turn around and lean against the bar counter, giving Rath my best smile over my filled glass.

“Christ.” Rath looks behind him and adjusts the knot on his towel. “Guessing you’re not going anywhere too soon.”

“Nope,” I answer, popping the P.

“And Bram wasn’t available?”

“Bram is all about that love shit right now. Couldn’t take it, so I came here.”

“Lucky me,” Rath says while blowing out a long breath. “Have a seat in the living room while I take care of something.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I answer, strutting toward the couch, the room spinning around me. After being tossed out of the restaurant, I went to the first bar I found and drank until I was drunk enough to grab a cab to Rath’s apartment.

Why here?

Simple, I can’t be at my place, not right now. Not when Sutton keeps calling and texting me. I turned my phone off, not able to take it anymore.

I read some of her texts.

She was sorry, she needs to talk to me. Please be careful, shit like that. But it means nothing to me. It can’t mean anything to me.

Not after what Foster said to me.

Not after the look she gave me as she walked away.

I saw it in her eyes, almost as if she agreed with her dad.

From the hallway, Rath appears in a pair of sweatpants and holding a girl’s hand as he walks her to the elevator. I hear him whisper something while pressing the down button, but can’t quite make it out.

Feeling a little guilty, I wave my hand in their direction and shout out, “Sorry about the cockblock.”

Rath shoots me a death glare and then presses a quick kiss on the girl’s lips before sending her on her way. Once the doors are closed, he lets out a long breath and grabs himself a tumbler of whiskey as well before joining me on the couch.

“She seemed nice,” I say, trying to fill in the silence.

“Yeah.”

I shrug. “She had good legs.”

“That she did,” Rath says, leaning back and looking to the ceiling.

“But she isn’t the girl we don’t talk about, is she?”

“We’re not here to pick apart my love life,” he growls at me. “Now tell me what the fuck happened so I can go to bed.”

“Where should I start?” I scratch the side of my jaw. “Foster found out about me and Sutton.”

“Shit, did he punch you?” Rath asks, sitting up and facing me now.

I take a sip from my cup and hiss out the burn before saying, “Nah, that was a guy named John who was sexually assaulting Sutton in a hallway.”