The Broken One (Corisi Billionaires, #1)(39)

Win jogged down the driveway beside Judy to keep up. “Aren’t you worried she’ll out us?”

Without glancing back, Judy said, “She won’t. I already told her not to mess with me again.”

“Didn’t she apologize?”

“She did.”

“But you’re still mad?”

Judy spun on him. “She laughed—laughed when I was crying. I’m not mad. I’m done with her.”

“Then why did we meet in her yard?”

“So she could see how done I still am.”

Win whistled. “I’m glad I’m not a girl. Brian and I are already friends again, and I punched him.”

“Brian? He laughed at me too.”

“But he got punched for it, so it’s done.”

Shaking her head, Judy checked her phone. “My ride canceled. Now what do we do?”

Win pointed at the car that was pulling up beside them. “Isn’t that your father’s bodyguard?”

Marc Stone. Judy’s shoulders slumped. “He owns a whole security company, but yes, he works for my father.”

The passenger-side door opened. Dark suit. Dark glasses. Built like a football player. Marc could intimidate simply with his presence, but Judy had grown up with him in the background. “Hi, Marc,” Judy said in resignation.

He removed his glasses, pocketed them, and folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve talked about this, Judy.”

Judy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Before you pat yourself on the back for finding me, I was on my way to your office.”

“Is that the tone I use when I speak to you?” Marc asked in his quiet, firm way.

“No,” Judy said in a much more respectful tone. Marc had always been kind to her, but having him around was like having another parent in the mix. “Sorry.”

“Good to see you, Win,” Marc said.

“You too, sir,” Win replied. Judy was pretty sure Marc was Win’s fantasy father. He looked a person in the eye when he spoke to them, seemed genuinely interested when they spoke, and didn’t take crap from anyone.

“I thought you were grounded at home.”

“I am, but . . .” Win nodded toward Judy.

Marc’s gaze returned to Judy. “If you wanted to go to my office, why didn’t you simply ask to?”

Judy looked away. “I wanted to see Aunt Alethea—alone.”

“Why?” Marc pushed off the car and walked to just in front of Judy, crouching so their eyes were level. “You can talk to me, Judy.”

When Judy didn’t answer, Win said, “You’re going to make her cry again.”

“Again?” Marc sounded concerned this time. “What’s going on?”

Feeling cornered, Judy said, “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Win, thanks for trying. Marc, I’m ready to go back to prison.”

“Prison? You mean home?”

“Same thing.”

“Really?” Marc straightened and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure there are a lot of free people who would love to switch places with you.”

“Let them,” Judy snapped. “Then maybe I could finally do what I want to.”

“What do you want to do?” Marc asked.

Judy blinked back tears. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Told you,” Win said as he gave Judy’s back an awkward pat.

“I definitely won’t understand if you don’t explain it to me.”

“I want to see Alethea,” Judy said firmly. “I know she knows something. Why won’t she tell me?”

“What? Ask me. I might know the answer.”

“No, I asked her not to tell anyone.”

“I’m her husband. She tells me everything.”

Judy would bet she didn’t. Like a magician, Alethea lived among smoke and mirrors. “Did she tell you she’s pregnant?” Judy regretted asking when she saw Marc’s face go white.

“Pregnant?” Then he smiled and slapped his thigh. “That explains a lot.”

“You’re not mad?” Adult relationships still often baffled Judy.

“I love Alethea and all her layers. No, I’m not mad.” His grin grew as he spoke. “I’m going to be a father. A father.” He shook his head as if still trying to wrap his head around the wonder of it.

Marc would be an amazing dad. He was strong and brave, and, like Judy’s father, he had a softer side to him that had made him part of so many of her memories, like teaching her how to ride a bike without training wheels. Her mother’s hovering had made Judy nervous, and Judy hadn’t wanted to fall in front of her father. Marc had shown her how to take the wheels off herself. He’d picked her up each time she’d fallen. When she’d skinned her knee and had been just about to give up, he’d said, “You know what fear is? It’s God’s way of saying try harder.” That and a Band-Aid had been enough to get Judy right back on her bike. She’d ridden her bike with confidence after that day. As much as it could be annoying that Marc was always in the background, it was also reassuring. “What did you want to see Alethea about?”

“I need help with a project for school.” It was the truth, just not the whole truth.