Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(121)

Jonathan pours a glass of whiskey and sits back next to Lo while I sprawl out on the other couch, a monogrammed burgundy blanket covering my legs. HALE in black lettering. I braid my hair for the twentieth time, bored and anxious.

I learned that my dad wants to “get to know” Ryke. Jonathan mentioned that, so my dad made him stay up front with everyone else.

I’d join them, but my mom is in there.

So here I remain.

Jonathan looks to his son. “You need to send me your sales report for Halway Comics by next weekend. I need to know if you’re driving the f*cking thing into the ground.”

“It’s been slow,” Lo says. “I took a month off for the road trip.”

“That’s your goddamn fault,” he refutes. “You’re running a business now. You can’t afford to take month-long vacations.”

“Connor took the same time off,” Lo defends.

“And he’s running a multi-billion dollar company with a staff of thousands. You don’t even have an assistant. Christ, you don’t even have an annoying assistant, the kind that screws up coffee orders and likes to share personal life stories that you don’t give a f*ck about.”

This is why Lo doesn’t come to Sunday family luncheons with Lily. He gets berated and my sister either gets ignored or scolded. I don’t blame them for skipping.

“It’s called initiative,” Jonathan says after he takes a pretty giant swig of whiskey, without grimacing. And then his eyes fix on me, realizing that I’ve been watching. He stands. “Daisy—I think you and I should have a talk.” He sits on the couch next to me. “Loren, can you give us a minute?”

Lo frowns deeply. “Why do you need to talk to her?”

I’ve never had a conversation alone with Jonathan Hale. I don’t think I ever needed to.

“She’s dating my son.”

Lo doesn’t move. He’s twenty-four and wears anger like a weapon. It almost makes me shrink back, but he’s on my side of things. If anything, I should be recoiling from Jonathan, right?

“I’d like to talk to her alone,” Jonathan repeats.

I’m confused. I don’t know what to do because my boyfriend doesn’t talk to his father, so even entertaining the idea of listening to Jonathan kind of feels like a betrayal. Should I cold-shoulder Jonathan too? In solidarity? I don’t know how this works.

These are deep waters that I actually need help swimming in.

“I’m not leaving her alone with you,” Lo snaps.

“Stop being a little—”

“If Ryke found out that you talked to her in private, he’d kill you. So think of it as me doing you a favor.” Lo crosses his arms.

Jonathan rolls his eyes and then focuses his attention back on me. I sit up and tuck my legs to my chest. His eyes fall to the saying on my shirt, and his lips rise in amusement. “How long have you and Ryke been dating?”

“A little over a month.”

I have to remind myself that I’ve known Jonathan since I was a little girl. He’s even Poppy’s godfather.

Jonathan tilts his head at me. “Your father is warming up to that timeframe, but your mother seems to think you’ve had a relationship long before that.”

I’m not surprised that she believes that. The tabloids have been throwing out those rumors for a while. “She’s wrong. Ryke wouldn’t ever be with someone underage.” Even me.

“I know,” Jonathan says, surprising me. “Ryke’s a lot of things: stubborn, hardheaded, foul-mouthed.” He stares at his glass. “But he’s made it clear that he’ll never follow in my footsteps.” He washes back the liquor.

Lo tenses on the couch, and his eyes briefly flicker to me. I know the truth, what Jonathan is talking about, like the rest of my family, but it’s different airing it out like this.

Twenty-four years ago, Jonathan had an affair with an underage girl.

Lo’s mom.

The press doesn’t even know the identity of Lo’s mother. It’s what’s kept Jonathan out of jail.

“Is that all you wanted to ask?” I wonder. “Whether or not Ryke was with me before I turned eighteen?”

“That and I wanted to know if you could talk to Ryke for me. I’d like to have dinner with him next weekend, catch up. You’re welcome to come too. The more the merrier.” He almost takes another sip of his drink, but he realizes his glass is empty. But he doesn’t stand to refill it again.

I glance at Lo. I don’t know what to say.

Lo suddenly rises from the other couch. “Dad, I’d like to talk to you alone.”

“Well we all can’t have what we want, can we? I said I’d like to talk to Daisy alone, and you mouthed off to me. So I will kindly do the same to you. Cheers.” He raises his empty glass.

My heart thuds. I’ve never, in my life, been in a room alone with the two of them. And from what I’ve heard, it can get nasty.

Lo turns his head, his eyes hitting mine. “Give us a minute, Daisy.”

I stand to leave, but Jonathan destroys my chance to escape. “Don’t be ridiculous, stay. My son doesn’t dictate when I speak to people.”

I freeze.

Lo glowers. “I know what you’re doing. And it’s not going to work, so just stop.”