Chapter 13
Vaughn
For the first time since Evie was taken from us at the hands of that brute, Davi, I'm feeling something that almost feels close to happiness. And a lot of that has to do with a certain Clayton Palmer.
Scratch that.
All of it has to do with him.
He's charming and funny and such an easy person to hang out with. Conversation flows naturally—from his end, at least—and it's obvious how much he adores Mabel. The two of us are a package deal now, so whoever I'm with needs to be cool with that, too.
Not that I'm with Clayton, but…maybe in the future?
That's something I haven't been thinking a lot about. When you're in survival mode, fleeing, petrified for your life, seeing beyond the next day, or even the next hour, is a luxury you can't afford.
I do wonder what Clayton must be making of all this. He's smart and emotionally astute, so I'm sure he can sense I'm holding something back.
And I am.
And I hate that I am because I'm developing feelings for the guy. Strong feelings that run deeper than just a physical attraction. Feelings I've never felt in my life.
"Hey, sunshine." Clayton sprays me with sand.
We're sitting under a beach cabana, he's got his long legs sprawled out with Mabel kicking happily between them.
My heart warms at the sight of them together.
I'd love to take a photo to remember this moment but figure it's not safe to.
Just like I hardly leave the confines of the marina, either.
This stretch of golden sand, tucked away beside the marina, is the limit of how far I'm prepared to venture.
Learned that lesson the hard way when I took Mabel with me on a remote hike. I got the shock of my life when I spotted Davi's men near the trail, and we almost paid for it with our lives. If it hadn't been for Clayton, I don't want to think where we'd both be right now.
More sand flies at me. "You helping or what?"
"I'm helping, I'm helping," I reply, pinching Clayton's calf with a grin before grabbing the spade and resuming work on the world's best sandcastle.
A few seconds pass.
"What were you thinking about?"
I spear the spade into the sand and look over at him.
He's shirtless, wearing a ridiculous bucket hat he insisted wasn't ridiculous when I pointed out how ridiculous it was, but it's his eyes that captivate me.
The one detail that seared into my memory the moment I dumped Mabel into the lap of a complete stranger.
They're warm, curious, and filled with tenderness, a perfect reflection of his character.
"I was thinking about you, actually."
He rolls his eyes. "If it's about my bucket hat again, I'll have you know that—"
"It's not about the hat."
"Then what was it?"
"I was thinking how nice it is hanging out with you. Even if I don't fully get what's in it for you."
"What do you mean?"
I fear I may have used the wrong expression, given how rigid his spine has become.
"What I mean is, I don't like not being as forthcoming with you as you are with me.
You've told me about your brothers and how close you all are.
Your life back on the Gold Coast. What you do day to day up here in the office. I've—I've been holding back."
I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable barrage of follow-up questions I've been dreading. Not that I blame him. If the situation were reversed, my curiosity would be aroused, too. Doesn't mean I'm looking forward to going there, though.
But as he's prone to do, he doesn't take the predictable path.
"That's not entirely true. There are things I've held back, too.
" He takes a breath and shifts Mabel so she’s beside him instead of kicking at his legs.
"My family is…complicated. I've told you about my brothers because we're super close and they're relatively normal.
Although if you ever tell them I said that, you'll be in big trouble. "
I grin. "Got it."
"My parents are divorced, and Mum's fine, but my father's side of the family are the clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks.
He's the middle child of five brothers. My grandfather started Australis, and Dad turned it into the largest privately held development company in the southern hemisphere.
From the moment he took the reins, three of his brothers were out to undermine him.
Some weird competitive, jealousy thing, I guess.
Despite never working a day in their lives in the company, after many years and plenty of attempts, they finally succeeded, fucking him over big time.
Dad kept control of Australis, but he had to pay them out, and we were forced to get private investors.
What's just as bad is that all my uncles have, how do I put it delicately? Gone down a bad path in life."
I lean forward. "How bad are we talking about?"
"Bad." Clayton bows his head, like the weight of whatever he's about to say is a heavy burden.
"Uncle Dean is the oldest. And the worst. He runs a drug smuggling cartel, and…
" He lifts his gaze, and his eyes are filled with pain.
"And if the rumors are to be believed, he smuggles something even worse than just drugs. "
A shiver runs through me as the implication of what he's saying sinks in.
"I've had the misfortune of encountering some very bad people, too," I say.
"Evie got caught up in something she had no business getting involved in.
I tried everything I could to get her out of it, but I wasn't able to.
" My eyes drop to Mabel. "And now Mabel is going to grow up without a mother. "
After a few moments, I look at Clayton, at all the questions swimming in his eyes, questions he's refraining from asking because he's a good man.
An honest man.
A man who would be justifiably abhorred to find out the truth—that Evie wasn't my wife, and Mabel isn't my daughter.