Chapter 43 - Sullivan
SULLIVAN
How fucking dare she?
She thinks she doesn’t have talent? That the label only wanted her because I bought them? She blamed it all on me, using me as her scapegoat for giving up. She could have had it all. Everything that being with me could never give her.
“I hated it.”
“Me being gone was your dream.”
“Jesus Christ.” I slam my head into my hands, scrunching up the roots of my hair and slumping forward.
Cliff wisely put the privacy screen up the moment I threw myself into the backseat of the car after work, sensing I needed space on the drive to Seasons where I’m going to meet my father and collect Molly.
Tate has no idea why I can’t be with her the way I wish I could. I would kill for the chance to be able to live my life how I wanted to. But it’s more complicated than that. Just like I told her it was.
I thought the tour would make her happy. Make her forget about us. I hoped it would ease my guilt at having lied to her for so long.
I’m a deluded asshole, because it’s achieved nothing except making her hate me.
I yank my tie loose as the memory of her calling me a coward assaults me, making my chest tighten. I screw my eyes shut, rubbing them. But it’s no use. The disappointment and hurt in her eyes are seared into the backs of my eyelids.
Something new to add to the nightmares.
My phone rings and I pull it out, my jaw clenching at the name on the screen.
“Natasha?” I snap. “What is it?”
“You didn’t answer my call earlier. Are you avoiding me?”
Praying for you to disappear would be more accurate.
“I don’t have time to concern myself over missing one of your many pointless calls. I have a business to run, and a daughter to care for. What the hell do you want?”
I’ve had enough. I’m stressed to the max today after fighting with Tate, and Natasha always calls with the same bullshit. I should ignore her calls altogether. It’s always money she’s after.
“Charming way to talk to Peaches’ mom,” she drawls.
It’s barely six p.m., but I wouldn’t put it past her to be on her way to being drunk already. I doubt she recalls what it feels like not to be either drunk or hungover anymore.
I ignore her jibe. Rising to it will only prolong our conversation.
“I’m not giving you any money. I told you. Get clean, then we’ll talk.”
“I’m in New York. I went by your office, but they said I missed you.”
“What?” I snap, my eyes threatening to bug out of my head.
“I want to see her, Sullivan,” she demands, suddenly sounding far more lucid.
Cold sweat pricks along my hairline.
“No.”
“I’m not leaving until I do.”
“She doesn’t know you,” I spit. “You’ll be a stranger to her.”
“You managed it when I left her for you to look after. She didn’t know you then, either.”
“She was a baby!”
My grip on the phone tightens so much that it could shatter it at any second.
“I want my daughter back,” Natasha continues.
“You gave up the right to call her yours when you left her in a fucking box on my doorstep!”
She sighs like she’s bored of hearing it. But she needs to. She’s the shittiest excuse for a mother that’s ever existed. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Molly from her.
“I have every right. She’s mine.”
I suck in a blistering breath. Her argument is the same old one.
But this time it’s different. This time she’s actually come to New York.
Away from Florida where Molly was conceived on a stupid bachelor weekend years ago.
Natasha was a drunk then too. But it wasn’t obvious.
Not when everyone was having fun and partying.
I hate that Molly was the result of a one-night stand that meant absolutely nothing.
“She’s mine, Natasha,” I grit dangerously. “You don’t want to play this game with me.”
“You’re a fucking entitled asshole; you know that?”
She hangs up on me, but instead of feeling relieved, anger courses through my blood like liquid fire.
She’s in New York. Far too close for comfort.
The car rolls to a stop outside Seasons, and I leap out, tipping my head at Cliff before I storm inside.
Molly’s playing on the floor with Sinclair and Halliday. She looks so happy fussing Monty, and Sinclair’s new puppy, Mabel. I give her a brief kiss and cuddle, not wanting her to pick up on my tense mood and ruin the innocent smile on her face.
Instead, I make my way over to the piano and sit down while I wait for my father to appear from his office.
The keys are cool and comforting beneath my fingers as I hang my head and play. Music doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t threaten to take your daughter from you. It doesn’t demand anything.
It gives me a release like nothing else.
I continue playing, the stiffness in my neck easing a fraction with each song I finish. But the second I allow Natasha’s threats back in, it all comes crashing back with full gut-wrenching force.
“Damn it!” I curse, slamming my hands down on the keys, making a foreboding crash of notes echo around the room.
I fly to my feet and stride over to where my father has appeared with Uncle Mal and taken a seat with the recently returned Denver, Killian, and Jenson at one of the low tables on the far side of the room, away from where Molly is still playing with Sinclair, Halliday, and the dogs.
Tossing myself into an empty chair, I don’t wait for any of them to greet me.
I simply spit out, “She’s fucking back.”
“Who?” My sister demands, stalking over to our table.
I don’t miss the way Denver’s eyes track to her.
I feared he’d left for good after he told my father he could no longer work for our family.
We all did. But as it turns out, we felt his absence as much as he felt ours.
Sinclair’s eyes meet his and she’s drawn into his gaze for a beat.
I never thought I’d see the day my sister looked at Denver in anything other than detached disinterest. But now it’s out in the open that the two fell hopelessly in love while he was her bodyguard, I can’t imagine ever seeing her any other way.
Happiness suits her.
“Natasha,” I hiss, my anger spiking from saying her name.
Sinclair’s eyes go round. “Molly’s mom?”
“Do you know any others?” I grit.
“Don’t speak to me like that.” She whacks me gently on the back of the head, the only person who would ever dare talk to, or treat me in such a way, and not face repercussions for it. “What does she want?” she asks.
All eyes around the table pin on me as I grind the words out with a menacing quietness so they don’t carry across the room. “Molly. She says she wants to take Molly.”
“What?” Sinclair shrieks. “She can’t! Tell her she can’t.”
“I did fucking tell her that. But she’s her biological mother and—”
“And she’s also an addict who can’t look after herself, let alone a little girl. She left her on your doorstep in a fucking box, Sullivan. For God’s sake, what kind of mother does that?”
“I know.”
I scrub a hand down my face. But I’m worried.
I’m fucking worried. Natasha has never taken it this far before.
She went to my office, for Christ’s sake.
Molly could have been there. And she’s her mother.
As much as I know I can fight her, the fact remains that she’s Molly’s flesh and blood.
What if by some miracle she gets a good lawyer?
Or a judge who feels sorry for her and thinks a mother and a child shouldn’t be kept apart, even if that mother is a fucking liability?
What the hell happens then?
“She gave up all rights to be her mother when she did that,” Sinclair continues. “We’ll fight her, won’t we, Dad?”
My father nods. “You bet your ass we will, Sweetheart. Molly isn’t going anywhere.”
A burst of hope ignites in my chest as I look around the table at my family, and the security team. Any person sitting at this table would die for Molly. I know that for a fact.
Natasha doesn’t know what she’s up against.
“Just slam some DNA tests at the courts along with her failed rehab stints. Then she can crawl back to where she came from.”
“DNA results?” I echo Sinclair’s words.
“It’ll show you’re her biological father, won’t it?” Sinclair quips.
It’s been my main threat against Natasha whenever she’s tried to pull shit in the past. But this time it’s not been enough to keep her away.
I grit my teeth. “You know it will, but it’s not that simple—”
“You’re her father,” Uncle Mal says.
“You are,” my father confirms.
“I know.” I lean my head back against the chair, exhaling. “It’s just the last thing I need right now.” My head’s still reeling from seeing Tate back in the city again. And now Natasha goes and pulls a stunt like this?
“Okay,” my father says, his deep, commanding voice bringing a calm order to the table. “We all know what’s going on. And we’ve got each other’s backs. We’re family. And family looks out for one another. We’ll get this all sorted.”
“Yeah.” I scrub at my eyes, not wanting him to see how deeply Natasha has gotten to me this time. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re okay, Son. It’ll all be okay.” He squeezes my knee.
“Mabel licked me.” Molly giggles happily as I carry her into the lobby of our building.
“Auntie Sin’s new puppy loves you and thinks you taste yummy,” I reply, hiding the weariness in my voice.
Today has drained me. All I want now is to go upstairs with Molly and eat whatever Joan has left us for dinner, then lie in bed with my little girl and read to her.
I head straight for the elevators, passing the empty concierge desk on the way.
Movement to my left catches my eye and I turn to see a woman walking toward us, her steps slow and uncoordinated.
“Natasha?!”
I pull Molly into my chest and cradle her head, nestling it into my shoulder. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I spit.
“Daddy?” Molly pipes up.
“It’s okay, Sweetheart,” I say, stroking the back of her head in her bunny onesie, keeping her firmly planted against my shoulder so she can’t turn around.
Natasha’s glazed eyes scan over Molly and she has the audacity to look interested as she admires her outfit.