Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(116)

“Sorry.” He shrugged.

He was gesturing me to lead the way with his hand, but I stared at him thoughtfully. “Where have you gone this week?”

He narrowed confused eyes at me. “I’m not following?”

“You’ve been distant, mentally. Physically you’ve been closer than ever. Wrapped around me at night. Making love to me until I fall asleep. But there’s hardly been any words.”

His sigh hurt me because it sounded like I was being a nuisance. “Things on my mind.” He made for the door and opened it up for me to leave first.

“What things?” I dug my Louboutins into the carpet, forcing a frown to form across his forehead.

He glanced behind me to warn Joanna to stop gawping, then he settled his gaze back on me. “Things I don’t want to concern you about. And before you say it, no, not because I don’t think you’re strong enough to hear them.”


I caught his sleeve. “Then why?”

He dipped his head briefly. Who cared if I was banging on? The way he shut me out of his deep and personal feelings hurt me. Opening up to him was both scary and refreshing for me. I just wished he would do the same. He loves me. And I love him. What else could possibly get in the way of that?

“I’ll walk you to the car.”

My sigh came out as frustrated as I intended it to be. I picked up my bag from where I dropped it and sauntered past him.

Back home, I got changed into a yellow dress, then started on dinner. I had tried to call Clinton to cancel, but he hadn’t answered my calls. Neither did he reply to the three voice messages I left him. Nevertheless, I wanted to ask Clinton a couple of questions. I knew it was wrong, but if Parks wasn’t going to give me answers, maybe Clinton would.

Mindlessly chopping carrots, I mumbled along to Sia’s “Fire Meet Gasoline,” which seemed to take my mind off things. That was until I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye. Quickly, I turned down the music and spun around with the knife in my hand.

“Whoa there, Evelyn.”

“Clinton?” What the hell was he doing creeping in like that?

“Sorry I scared you. I told the fine gentlemen at the door who I was, and he let me right up. I did knock but you couldn’t have heard me.” He nodded towards the music station. “My son is still at work, I take it?” Clinton glanced around the apartment, his eyes scanning every detail, trying to pick at something.

“He’ll be all night. I tried to call you to cancel, but you didn’t answer.” Being around Clinton made me second-guess myself. Parks had warned me to stay away from him. There must have been a reason. But it wasn’t his fault. I’d asked him around for dinner. Although, in my defence, I didn’t know Parks was not going to be present.

Clinton was finely dressed in a sharp black suit with a matching double-breasted waistcoat. He even had a gold pocket watch hanging from one of the pockets. He was dashing for an older man, and I could definitely see where Parks got his looks from.

“So what brings you to London?” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Clinton was quite intimidating and not much intimated me, so it was a little awkward to make conversation.

“A few things.” He casually made his way towards the breakfast bar and placed the bag he was carrying on top before turning to face me. “It was you who I wanted to see, actually.”

“Me?” My throat dried up as I watched him take out a bottle of red wine.

“Hmm. I was hoping to catch you alone. Wade wants to keep you away from me.”

The feeling of uneasiness about his father was shortly followed by the image of the wine bottle. Half of me wanted to kick him out. I knew I should never have shared the same space as him. My gut was telling me as much. Especially with a wine bottle. But I was a glutton for punishment. Clearly. So I said nothing.

My curiosity grew. I wanted to know why Parks was warning me to stay away from him. What was so bad about this man?

Clinton quickly found two glasses and opened up the bottle. To me, he already seemed half-cut, but he hid his intoxication well. All I got from being around Parks’s family was that they didn’t like Clinton drinking. Maybe it was because he was a bad drunk. Or because Harriet founded COA, so of course the Parks family would have to keep up a reputation of being teetotal. Clinton, however, was a grown man and sure as hell wasn’t going to be told what to do.

He topped up the glasses halfway and handed me one. I held my hands up, refusing to take it. “I’m good. Thank you.”

His frown was apparent as his brows dipped. “Please, have a drink with me.” He was extremely persistent, and I didn’t want to get into a row about not accepting a drink from him. So instead of arguing the toss—which would have inevitably ended up with me blurting out I was in recovery—I took the glass, kept it in my hand, and just held it. Even holding it in my hand and smelling the expensive wine did nothing for me. No desire did I have to sip it. For that, I was, for once, proud of myself. I just hoped Clinton didn’t notice.

He took his glass to his lips and downed the wine, then poured himself another. He watched me thoughtfully as he twirled around the stem of the glass on the kitchen worktop.

“Tell me, are you happy with my son?”

Where did that come from? “I’m very happy.”

He nodded, deep in thought. “Good. I’m glad he’s spending time with someone other than himself.”