“No, you don’t.” His voice was quaky. “You deserve better—so much better than me. I’m trying hard to be what you deserve, but I’m broken, Steph. I’m so screwed up.”
“That’s not true, Branson. You’re—”
His lips silenced her protest. His kiss seemed to cry out in a desperation that matched her own, as his hands tangled in her hair. When he drew away, her lips mourned—a soft, wordless cry.
“Come.” His hand slipped to the small of her back and moved her toward the door. “Teach me how to be a real dad.”
Branson tightened his hands on the arms of his desk chair, trying to push his temper back.
“Mr. Parker—”
“Horace. Call me Horace.”
He sucked in a lungful of air and held it, counting to ten. “Horace, Carina is a beautiful woman. But more importantly, she’s a strong, intelligent person.”
Horace’s chair legs screeched, moving closer to the desk, so close his smoker’s breath came across with his words. “So, you’ll marry her, then?”
“No, Mr. Parker. Carina and I decided to go our separate ways.”
He spat out a vulgar curse word. “I wouldn’t have this problem if she wasn’t such a slut.”
“Mr. Parker—”
“She slept with two Knights, got knocked up by one, and neither one wants her.” His coarse laugh sounded more like a bark. “I get it. I don’t want her, either.”
“You don’t mean that. Carina’s your daughter.”
“I know she’s my daughter.” A slam on his desk made Bran jump out of his skin. “That’s why I have this problem. If she’d been a son, we wouldn’t be having this conversation today. She was a disappointment from the day she was born.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Bran replied, as his heart returned to its normal pace. “Surely her mom would disagree with you.”
“My wife doesn’t often have enough sober minutes in the day to form a lucid thought.” His voice came out strangled, like someone was choking him. “But when she finds out Carina was so stupid and selfish she got herself pregnant, she’ll tell me to kick her butt to the street like the tramp she is.”
“Horace…” Bran tried another approach. “Since my father is responsible for the child, Carina will have plenty of money to take care of the baby. All she needs is family to help her raise your grandchild.”
“Your dad denies being the father.” Horace sounded resigned. “We could take him to court, but it would ruin the family’s reputation.”
“That hardly seems important right now.”
“What would you know? You had everything handed to you on a silver platter. I had to work to get where I am.”
Bran didn’t bother to tell him he’d rejected his inheritance to prove he could make it on his own. Horace wouldn’t believe him, anyway. “What’s more important—your position in society or your daughter?”
“If you think Carina’s so important, you can have her.” Horace’s chair scraped again as he rose to his feet. “I told her to get an abortion, but she refused. So as far as I’m concerned, she made her choice.”
“No, leave it on.” Carina lifted her chin, red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears. “I asked Bran to let me hear it.”
Stephanie slowly withdrew her hand from the switch that would’ve silenced the speaker. She studied her fingernails, pretending she wasn’t paying attention to Horace Parker’s hurtful speech.
Branson asked Stephanie to sit with Carina to ensure she didn’t come blasting into the room. But if Steph had known this would happen, she would’ve run the other direction. After an eternity, a door slammed, and the torture was over.
Carina sat like a statue, staring at the wall, tear-tracks staining her perfect complexion.
You were right, MawMaw. I almost feel bad for hating her, but I’m not as good a person as you.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Steph struggled to find something encouraging to say. “He didn’t know you were listening. He was probably blowing off steam.”
Carina’s blank expression was etched in stone. “I’ve never pleased him. Nothing I ever accomplished was worth anything. My life was a total failure until I started dating Branson, but I couldn’t even do that right.”
Steph couldn’t stand the haunted look on her face, so she dropped her gaze back to her fingernails. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. What’s it matter to you?” Her flat tone was eerie, like she was dead, or wishing she was.
“I’ll help you with the baby.” Why did I say that? It’s too late to take it back. Maybe she’ll say no.
“Really? I suppose you’ve got a huge stash of money somewhere? Or is Branson giving you a big raise, soon?”
“I meant I’d help you take care of the baby. I could sit for you sometimes… give you a break.” She slid a box of tissues across the table.
“I can pay for a sitter. I’m going to sue Martin for child support. Why should I care if it ruins my family’s reputation?”
Steph shrugged, relieved she was off the hook. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Carina snatched a tissue and patted her face dry, careful not to smear her mascara. She stood up, smoothed the wrinkles from her upscale dress and glided to the door on designer heels. As her hand reached for the handle, she paused and looked down.
