Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LOLA
For the first time in days, I open Instagram.
Part of me expects disaster. My sunset photo, horses silhouetted against the mountains, sky bleeding orange and pink. It felt like a gamble compared to the sexy selfies and modeling shots I used to post. Perfect lighting. Perfect angles. Perfect version of me.
But it hasn’t tanked. In fact, engagement is decent. There are comments asking where the photo was taken, and people saying they love this kind of content.
I scroll through notifications, a small smile forming.
Then it fades. Because the same name keeps appearing.
Again. And again. And again.
Reese Atkins liked your photo.
Reese Atkins commented.
Reese Atkins liked your post.
Reese Atkins liked your photo from three years ago.
My stomach twists. He’s gone through everything. Every shoot. Every bikini picture. Every posed smile. Every filtered version of the girl my parents sold to the world.
I click his profile and find exactly what I expect. Being on social media for nearly a decade, you can tell what someone will put out based on how they interact. And I’ve seen enough of Reese to know what I’d expect.
Him at work. Him in suits. Him beside flashy cars. Him awkwardly posing next to a horse like it’s a prop instead of an animal.
Boring. And suddenly… unsettling.
I shake my head and block him. If he stops seeing me, maybe he’ll stop thinking about me. I’m hoping he will just fade into the shadows and move on to pestering someone else.
And after yesterday, distance feels necessary.
My laptop sits open on the dining table beside me, property listings filling the screen. Turns out most apartments in town are owned by Reese or companies under his firm. I ended up down a rabbit hole of his company structure to be safe.
Of course they are.
The only two options not tied to him?
Huge houses. Expensive houses. I guess it’s good that I checked my investment portfolios this morning, and they’re way up. My parents have money if I need it, but that’s the last thing I want to use.
I sigh.
At least our lease here ends next month. It could work out quite flawlessly.
I tap my fingers against the table, saving the listings to show Violet later, before dropping onto the couch.
My phone lights up.
Dad.
I groan before answering.
“Dad.”
“Hi, love,” he says warmly. “How are things going? Bored yet?”
I roll my eyes. Twenty-seven, and they still talk to me like I’m a teenager on summer vacation. “I’m relaxed, not bored. Big difference.”
He chuckles. And despite everything, I love them. I know they worry about me. They just split their love between me and their fashion empire.
I just don’t think they realize their version of protection feels more like clipping my wings. Keeping me safe in a very pretty cage.
“Relaxing sounds boring,” he counters.
“Yeah? Tell that to your cardiologist. The way you live is killing you. Life here? I’ve never felt more energized.”
He exhales through his nose. Dad believes in work.
Work until you collapse.
Exactly what I don’t want for myself. If I have kids, I want to be an active part of their lives. And have more than just one. I don’t want to give my kids the life that I had. With nannies and mansions that felt lonely.
“Lazy, Lola. That’s what that is.”
I scoff. “People work hard here. Actual manual labor. Not sitting behind desks all day. And still manage to have a life outside of work.”
He changes tack. “Your investments are up. Have you checked?”
“Nope. But thanks. I’m sure Steve’s handling it.” I lie.
I’m not stupid, I know you need money to survive. And I’m careful with my own. But I don’t want my parents thinking I’m interested in their business.
Corporate talk now feels like listening to paint dry.
“Lola,” he says, tone shifting. “You’re smart. I’ve allowed this little identity crisis and mountain escape, but you have a future here. An empire to run. I need you back to train.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I can be CEO one day. But someone else can manage things right now.”
Another lie. I’d probably sell the company. I don’t want their legacy. I want something of my own. This is exactly what I wanted to escape.
I ran so I could find a quiet life.
“Not good enough.”
“There’s more to life than making millions, Dad. Can you just get off my back? I like it here. I’m figuring things out.”
Silence stretches.
Then I hit him where it might hurt him more. “Or maybe you could just say, ‘Lola, we miss you. Come home for the weekend.’”
Silence.
Because Mom is absolutely listening somewhere nearby.
My being away from them isn’t just for myself. It’s for them too. I’m hoping they might realize they’ve fucked up with me. That they need to change and be the parents I’ve always longed for.
Present ones. Ones that don’t see me as a way to make more money. Or trying to make me the perfect future heir. They should have carried on and had a son if they wanted that. Because that isn’t me.
Dad exhales. “Shit. I’m sorry, Lo.” And this time, it sounds real. “We do miss you. I just… forget how to...”
“Turn off from work?” I offer.
He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah.”
Maybe he is learning.
The front door slams open behind me. I glance up to see Violet storming in, cheeks flushed, marching straight for the fridge and grabbing the bottle of white wine.
Oh boy.
“Dad, gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and turn to her.
She twists the cap off and takes a long drink straight from the bottle.
Definitely bad.
“What happened?” I ask.
She slams the bottle onto the counter.
“One of my staff just quit. No notice. Nothing. Just a text saying she’s not coming back.”
My stomach sinks.
“And tomorrow is the biggest event I’ve had since taking over Uncle Ray’s company,” she continues, pacing now.
“Two hundred guests. Full service. Staff assigned, menu prepped, everything booked. A damn kid’s party that seems to be like a cowboy ball for the entire town.
Complete with a motherfucking cake shaped like a goat! ”
She runs a hand through her hair, panic setting in. I’m trying not to laugh at the goat cake.
“And now I’m short-staffed. Angelica was my best server.”
I blink. “What’s the event exactly?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“A birthday party. Big ranch just outside town. Kids, parents, the whole damn thing.”
Ranch.
My mind flashes immediately to leather seats, strong hands, Hunter’s voice in my ear, heat and breath and—
Focus, Lola.
Violet groans. “I can’t run service, manage staff, and handle kitchen timing all at once. It’ll be chaos. And we’re being shoved inside a catering tent.”
I stand and walk over, taking the wine from her hand before she downs half the bottle. “Then I’ll help. I’m good with my hands. Got a perfect customer service smile. What’s the worst that can happen?”
She freezes. “What? Really? It’s going to be hell.”
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her. “I’ll step in. Hand out champagne, serve food, whatever you need. You’re my best friend, V. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Her eyes widen. “Lola, you don’t have to—”
“I know. But I want to. Might be able to sneak some good pictures on the ranch, too.”
And maybe throwing myself into work tomorrow is exactly what I need instead of thinking about cowboys and complicated landlords.
She stares at me for a long second. Then throws her arms around me. “You’re saving my ass.”
I laugh, hugging her back. “Yeah, yeah. In return, I need you to look at these two houses I’ve found, and we can get viewings booked in.”
She pulls back, relief flooding her face.
And as she starts talking logistics, all I can think is tomorrow I’m working a party at a ranch.
And knowing my luck?
It’ll probably be his.