IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(47)

When I got up to my apartment, I poured myself a Macallan and stood at the windows looking out into the night. It was a sight that had always symbolized my success. To be able to have this kind of view in Manhattan meant I was somebody important, successful. I was living the life my father always imagined for me. Money, prestige, and power.

I snorted at the thought. There’d been a time my father had been deeply, irrevocably disappointed in me and my accomplishments. I felt a slow burn make its way up my neck and flush across my cheeks at the memory. It had been the day I’d realized the extent of Mark’s treachery, the extent of his lies and subterfuge. I’d been forced to do the one thing I’d always sworn I would never do: go to my father for help.

Throw myself at his mercy.

It wasn’t that my father was a bad person, he was just cold. Exacting. He could be generous as well, but it always came with strings. It was why I’d tried so hard to build a life without relying on him.

Yet there I’d been. Standing in front of his desk in his heavily wood paneled office, the smell of expensive cigar smoke soaked into every surface. He’d known why I was there, but he’d made me say it nonetheless. He’d made me confess the mistake I’d made in trusting Mark, made me lay bare just how deeply the man had violated not just my trust, but the entire family’s.

“You do understand that your sister is devastated by this,” he said. “Already the gossip mills are talking. She’s likely to lose her seat on the board of the foundation, and she certainly can’t continue her volunteer work with the League. She’ll be lucky to salvage any shreds of her reputation after this scandal.”

“Yes, sir.” I dropped my eyes to the plush antique rug under my feet. “I should have believed her when she told me she wasn’t the one the drugs were intended for.”

In the periphery of my vision, I saw him steeple his fingers, pressing the tips against his lips as he considered me. “And why did you believe Mark over your own flesh and blood?”

I winced at the question. “He was my business partner. We worked together for years. It never occurred to me that he could—” I swallowed. “He could betray me like that.”

My father barked a laugh. It was so sudden and out of place that I almost jerked back. When I looked up, my father’s eyes held a mixture of impatience and annoyance. “You should have realized that the moment he turned his attention to your sister.”

My heart ticked up, my breathing becoming shallower. “Sir?” I asked. It came out weaker than I wanted, more squeak than sound.

“You think I didn’t know about you two?” He rolled his eyes. “You weren’t exactly subtle the way you looked at him when you brought him home for Christmas. The way you’d come to dinner with stars in your eyes and swollen lips from doing god knows what together.”

It felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs. “You knew?”

His expression indicated just how ridiculous he found my question.

“Did Mom?” My chest squeezed tight and I took a step forward, panic churning in my gut. “Did Win?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “But the moment I saw him toss you over for your sister, I hired a private investigator to dig into his life and follow him.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick file. It landed on the smooth expanse of his wooden desk with a thump. “It’s all there going back years. The cheating. The drugs. I’m sure the police will find it quite useful in building their case against him.”

My knees felt weak. I reached out to grab the back of the stiff wooden chair perched in front of his desk. “But you didn’t say anything.”

He waved a hand. “You wouldn’t have listened. You never did. You’ve always had to learn the hard way. Decisions have consequences, son. Maybe now you’ll remember that.”

“What about Win? You let her marry him.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “So did you.”

“But I—” I swallowed what I’d about to say next. That I’d trusted Mark. Believed in him. Loved him.

Even after he left me for my sister.

I’d made up excuse after excuse for him. Convinced myself I was happy he and Win had found each other, grateful that he was at least still in my life even if he was no longer in my bed. Mark had known me well—better than anyone else. Anytime I’d found myself second-guessing him or pulling away, he’d always known exactly what to say or do to keep me loyal.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the burn of tears threatening. And there was no way I could let them fall. I could imagine nothing worse than crying in front of my father.

“I trust you have learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir.” It came out in a wheeze.

“And what is it?”

My lips were numb. My response automatic. “There is no room for emotion when it comes to business.”

My father nodded, a gleam of pride in his eyes. “Exactly. And don’t you forget it.”

He studied me a moment longer. “I’ll pull some strings, call in a crisis management team, make sure the worst of this scandal is buried. Not just for you but for Winifred as well.”

My jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. But I knew the words my father expected to hear. “Thank you.”

My father stood and came around the desk to face me. Little separated us except for a few feet of stale air and a lifetime of missed birthdays and late nights at the office. He reached out a hand. It landed heavily on my shoulder. “You’re the one who brought that man into our lives, Wells. Never forget that the fallout of this belongs to you.”