Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE PRODIGAL NEPO BABY RETURNS!
TRIPP
“It’s not too late to leave,” I muttered as I wrapped an arm around Greer’s waist to pull her to me. “We’ll order Chinese, and I’ll eat you while we wait for it to be delivered.”
With my hold on her, it was impossible to miss the tremor that went through her. She tried to dislodge herself from my grip.
I didn’t fucking let her.
She settled for giving a pointed look around my father’s ostentatious-as-shit porch.
Who needed so many marble columns and statues? Were we supposed to think we’d teleported to Greece?
“I think it’s a little late for that,” she muttered as she fussed with her dress.
Other than her running down to my car for my bag and the lobby for our food deliveries—she hadn’t wanted to risk anyone seeing me, something I gave less and less of a fuck about—Greer and I had spent Christmas Eve locked away in her apartment.
And mostly naked.
I was a big fan of that part.
I’d been willing to skip the visit with my old man to continue the good thing we had going, but Greer had fought me on it. It’d take a lot of back and forth—back and forth that involved sexual extortion—before I’d finally relented.
But only after she’d reluctantly agreed to attend Christmas dinner at the illustrious Clark Carter’s mega mansion with me.
I’d thrown on the black sweater and gray slacks I’d tossed into the overnight bag, knowing that she would likely insist. That was as dressed up as I was getting.
Greer didn’t follow that same casual dress code.
She’d come out of her bedroom in a short green velvet dress that brought out the green in her eyes.
The fit clung to her tits before flaring out at her hips, and the length showed off her tanned legs.
Her long hair was mostly down at my order, but she’d clipped the top back with a cute bow.
She looked like a pretty present under the tree that I would ask Santa for.
One I couldn’t wait to unwrap.
Too bad my thoughts when it came to the siren had likely permanently landed me on the naughty list.
She fussed again with a wrinkle that wasn’t there, and I stilled her motion with a tight hand around her wrist. Her wide eyes shot to me.
“If you keep lifting that skirt, baby, I am not going to be responsible for my actions.”
Leaning into me, she let out a shuddering breath. “Maybe it’s not too late, after all.”
But I didn’t have that kind of luck.
Both heavy doors in front of us opened at that moment with a dramatically ominous creak. An old man in a tux looked out before a grin split his wrinkled face. “Tripp.”
I released Greer just long enough to embrace the man who felt shorter and a hell of a lot frailer than he had the last time I was there.
Of course, it’d been more than five years, so that made sense.
His curious gaze landed on Greer, and I tugged her forward to introduce them. “Greer, this is Percy. Perce, this is Greer.”
“Percival,” he corrected as he shoved a bony elbow into my side before taking Greer’s outstretched hand in both of his. “Lovely to meet you.”
“It’s lovely to meet you as well, Percival,” Greer said, appearing calm and polished and as fake as everything else in my world.
I can’t wait to get her home to mess up this put together persona.
Of all the household staff, Percival was the only one I never loathed. He’d covered for me as often as he could, keeping the secrets the rest of them happily squealed.
That didn’t stop me from needling him the way I used to. “What’s been new, Percy? Love the penguin getup, ole Perce. How’re you feeling, Percy Perce?”
“Glad to see that aging hasn’t matured you,” Percy said with a sigh. He didn’t mind the nickname, but my father hated it. He was all about the pomp and circumstance he felt a celebrity like him deserved.
And returning home must automatically age regress people because the thought of annoying my father brought me Christmas joy.
Percy otherwise ignored my questions as he gestured us in. “Mr. Carter is in the parlor while the kitchen finishes dinner.”
Mr. Carter.
Fucking hell.
Percy had been my father’s butler since before I was born, but he never dropped the formalities. And Mr. Carter never came down from his ivory tower to offer it.
We took a few echoing steps into the cavernous grand entryway before Greer leaned closer to whisper, “Are you sure I look okay? I suddenly feel very, very underdressed.”
“You’ll be underdressed later,” I whispered back with a brow raise. It got the eye roll I was going for. One that soothed the irritation that clawed at me at being back in that house. “And you look gorgeous. Better than any of us deserve to look at all night.”
That got a sweet blush and an even sweeter smile.
And I likely won’t be the only one who thinks so.
A point I should inform her about now that it’s too late for her to change her mind.
“Fair warning, though.” I slowed more. “My father will likely hit on you. We’ll leave when it happens.”
When.
Not if.
She started to laugh before realizing I wasn’t joking. “You’re serious.”
“As serious as the heart attack he had from taking too much Viagra with an actress I was casually seeing.”
Anger, shock, and something else crossed her pretty face in quick succession.
I knew she wouldn’t demand to leave, even if I hoped she would.
After giving herself a little shake, she lifted her chin. “It’ll be fine.”
She started forward again, but not before sliding her hand into mine.
Did she need silent support?
Or a silent possessive claim?
I wasn’t sure, but both made me feel a shit-ton better.
Percy was already waiting for us at the parlor entryway, his gleeful eyes locked on our close positioning. He had a lot more optimism on how the night would go than I did.
Once we neared, he made a boisterous announcement like we were arriving at a royal ball and not what was supposed to be a family dinner. “Tripp and his date are here, sir.”
“Date?” my father’s voice carried.
Greer slowed to shoot me a glare, putting together that I hadn’t given anyone a head’s up about her attendance.
“It’s not like he doesn’t have the space or the food,” I muttered.
She still grumbled her annoyance before plastering on a pleasant smile as we entered.
My father was already standing, irritation set on his classically handsome face. He placed his ever-present snifter of brandy on the side table and adjusted his suit—because of course he wore a suit to a small family dinner—as he stood in place.
The king of the castle, waiting to be received with praise and gifts.
I had neither for him.
I hated how much it was like looking at a mirror into the future. I had a couple inches on him, and his hair was more gray than brown, but there was no doubt I was his son.
Even if it had taken multiple paternity tests for him to believe that.
His eyes—gray like mine, but with fewer lines thanks to his standing filler appointments—barely flitted to me before landing on the woman on my arm.
Rather than wait for us, his demeanor changed as he approached.
Any trace of annoyance at the surprise guest was gone as he gave her an appraising scan, his smile warm and inviting.
As was his voice when he greeted me without even looking my way. “My boy!”
According to the tabloids, I’d inherited my father’s natural charisma, like an old Hollywood playboy. His welcome carried that same innocent charm, but I knew him.
After all, I was a narcissistic chip off the egomaniacal block.
This was a bad idea.
“Dad,” I said, knowing full well he hated the name, “this is Greer.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carter,” she said with a grace and elegance that shouldn’t have surprised me.
Like how she could forget I was Tripp Carter, famed actor, I forgot she was more than my siren—a college student who organized my life between letting me dominate hers.
I didn’t release my hold on her hand as my father pulled her into a hug. “No need for formalities. Call me Clark.”
“You have a lovely home, Clark,” she complimented as he slowly released her. I didn’t have to use my grip to tug her back where I wanted. She moved on her own, not stopping until she was plastered to my side.
Right where she belonged.
My father played up his usual humble brags about the art and decor he’d acquired from around the world before shifting us deeper into the room that smelled like an unnecessary roaring fire, expensive booze, and pretentiousness.
He gestured to where Percy already waited near the stocked bar. “What can I get you to drink, dear? Wine, champagne, a cocktail?”
“Just a water, please,” Greer said, addressing her answer to the man who would be fixing it and not my father.
“Same,” I added with a tight smile.
“I’ve got a Macallan 1977,” my dad tried. “Not even opened yet.”
I was tempted to steal the twenty-five-thousand-dollar bottle on the way out, but not to drink it right then.
“I’m driving,” I said.
He waved that off. “Then you’ll just have to stay. It’s not like I don’t have the room.”
Not even if the rest of the world was on fire.
I didn’t bother with a refusal since Percy was already fixing the ice waters.
“Fruit slices in Greer’s if you have it, Perce,” I called out, ignoring the way she pinched my hand for making a fuss.
If dinner went the way I assumed it would, fruit was the least of what I owed her.
“Sit,” my father said with a gesture to the leather couch across from him.
I steered Greer to it, sitting before tugging her down so she sat with her side pressed tight to mine. That already good became that much better when she kept hold of my hand and reached her free one over to rest it on my leg.
My father moved toward his favored armchair, and I suddenly realized we weren’t alone.
A woman—I really fucking hoped she was old enough to be called a woman—sat in the matching armchair with her legs pulled up. Her platinum blonde hair was gathered in a mess at the top of her head, and she wore a pair of shorts and a tiny tank top in a Christmas pattern.
It reminded me of the cute bow set I’d peeled off Greer that morning before eating her.
The woman’s face was buried in her phone, not looking up even when my dad said, “Tripp and Greer, this is Skylar.”
Greer’s greeting came out a lot friendlier than mine did, smooth and effortlessly chipper.
“Hey,” the woman responded, still not looking up.
I could feel my dad’s watchful eye on us as Percy delivered our waters. His eyes narrowed as he scanned down my casual outfit. He was far more pleased by Greer’s pretty dress. I’d like to think that was because he was happy his only child had such a lovely date, but I knew it wasn’t.
His glare cut to the woman next to him. “Dinner will be served soon. Go get dressed.”
“But I always wear my pajamas on Christmas. It’s, like, a tradition.”
“Skylar.”
At his biting tone, she dropped the whine and the indifference. She offered him a full smile as she stood with a bubbly bounce. “You’re right. Be right back.”
Greer used the momentary distraction to lean closer, her voice barely audible. “You’re an only child.”
I lifted my chin. “I am.”
“So that’s not your sister…?”
“It is not.”
Her nose scrunched before smoothing out just as my father gave us his attention again.
“So how long have you been seeing each other?” His polite question was quickly undercut when he looked at me.
“It couldn’t have been long. Weren’t you just tied to some social media something?
” He shook his head. “You need to be more careful when you leave clubs in the middle of the night. The bad lighting made you look bloated.”
Greer’s body turned into one of the damn statues as she stiffened next to me.
Yup.
I owe her more than fruit.