My brows knitted in confusion. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
He smiled wryly before reading me my rights. “It’s the same fucking song and dance with you every time Kiyah is in town. You’re moodier than usual, and you shoot her those sad puppy dog eyes of yours whenever she’s not giving you the attention you so desperately crave. I told youyearsago to give up on your little infatuation.”
Little infatuation? My father is sorely mistaken.
“She doesn’t think of you romantically, and she never will. You’re letting this… this fantasy that the two of you will be together prevent you from achieving happiness. A beautiful woman is actively trying to chat you up, and you look at her as if she had dog shit smeared across her face.”
“You’re exaggerating,” I said, just to screw with him.
“I can assure you I am not,” he responded sternly. “Son, you’re handsome, wealthy, intelligent, successful, and moderately funny when you want to be,” he praised, softening his words before he drove his message home. “Any woman would be lucky to have you—fuck, or man, whatever—but that’s only if you’re willing to open up your heart and give someone a chance. This desperation for Kiyah… it’s… it’s not right.”
“Are you done?” I sighed.
He held up a finger to my face. “You may be an adult, Grant, but you willnotdisrespect me.”
“I just find this conversation ironic.”
A puzzled crease formed between Dad’s eyebrows. “What’s ironic about it? Please enlighten me.”
I stepped closer to him, ensuring my words were heard loud and clear. “I’m in love with Kiyah to a fault, but I’m not the only man who’s been desperate to be loved by a woman he desires. I remember overhearing an interesting conversation twenty-five years ago between you and my nanny.” He blanched, and his mouth parted in surprise. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was a little stuffy in my bedroom, and I opened a window for some fresh air. I got my fresh air and a confession that you, Mom, and I will take to the grave. So, spare me the bullshit because you let my mother die so you could be with your nanny.”
“Grant, I—”
“I don’t need an apology. I forgave you a very long time ago. I was young, but even I knew Eliza was unwell. I lost my biologicalmother, but Kierra has always been the mother I wanted and deserved. So, thank you for that, but stay out of my business regarding Kiyah.”
Dad chuckled and placed his hands on his hips. “This is how you want it to be, huh?”
“If it must,” I retorted.
“When you’re done being treated like a punching bag by the woman you love, then you know where to find me. My door is always open.”
I nodded. “I appreciate it.”
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply when his shoulder slammed into mine before leaving the bathroom.
“Fuck my life,” I groaned.
Emotionally, blackmailing my father might not have been the right move.
* * *
I returned to the bar and stopped in my tracks when I heard a familiar laugh. My eyes zeroed in on Kiyah, laughing with….
What’s her name? Lyra? Lila? Laura? That’s it. No. It’s definitely Lila.
I lingered in the distance, unabashedly admiring the view of the woman who had stolen my heart for as long as I could remember. She wore a wine-colored satin corset dress, exposing smooth, slender shoulders I’ve dragged my lips and tongue across more times than I could count. The dress accentuated her perky breasts that I loved to bite, flaunted her narrow waist my fingers dug into when she rode me, and hugged the swell of her hips I grasped as I stroked her from behind. Her usual curly hair was straightened and situated in a high ponytail, revealing a slim neck I thought about choking more than I cared to admit. But her lips… her fucking lips were painted a deep burgundythat matched her dress. I chewed my bottom lip, fantasizing and wishing it was hers I was chewing on instead.
As customary, Kiyah had made herself “presentable” according to our father’s standards by removing her piercings. She had piercings of all kinds in her ears—industrial, daith, tragus, you name it; all that remained were two diamond studs that kissed her earlobes. She removed her eyebrow piercing and her double hoop nose piercings. Once, I fucked up and called her Dennis Rodman, resulting in her blocking me from every means of communication and forcing me to take an unplanned trip back home from college to talk some sense into her. It turned out she wasn’t pissed. She actually thought my joke was hilarious—she just wanted to fuck. Which we did at a skeevy motel on the other side of town. While Kiyah and I weren’t full-fledged members of the Morality Police, we found it disrespectful to have sex in our parents’ home and coupled elsewhere—my car, a motel, my apartment when she made the three-hour trip, and a few times in a private study room in my campus’s library.
I approached the chatty women but was intercepted by Casey. “What the hell happened in there?” he demanded, herding me away.
“Nothing,” I replied in a clipped tone. I sneered when it appeared Kiyah was exchanging phone numbers with Lorelai.
What the hell is she doing?
“I beg to differ. Dad returned from his talk with you, and it looked like he saw a fucking ghost. Mom also noticed something was wrong with him and took him outside to talk.”
“Another time, Case,” I mumbled, moving away from him. I stopped short when his hand wrapped tightly around my bicep. “Don’t walk away from me.”