Chapter 44 – RHETT
RHETT
Ijump away from Quinn, who starts and winces in pain.
Russel storms in until he’s practically right up in my face with fury etched all over his.
Fuck. It’s the one word ringing through my ears as panic hits me. But also, and I know this is messed up, there’s relief too. Not in him finding out this way. With my lips actually pressed to his ex-girlfriend’s. But relief in that I don’t have to hold on to this secret any longer.
It was eating me alive, keeping it from him.
But at the same time, I can’t stand seeing the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. It kills me.
“Russel,” I start, not knowing how to do this or what to say. I’ve thought about this moment no less than a thousand times over the last several weeks, and yet now I’m rendered speechless.
He shoves my shoulder, and I stagger back a step, bumping into the bed, which catches me.
“Hey.” I hold out a hand to him. “I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” he barks incredulously. “Are you kidding me with that? How long have you been fucking my girlfriend behind my back?”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Quinn protests. “That was a long time ago.”
“No, you’re just a filthy slut, aren’t you? How many old men’s cocks have you been fucking behind my back?”
“Hey,” I bark, standing between her and him. “Don’t talk to her that way. Back off and get control.”
“Fuck you, Dad. If you can even call yourself that. How long?” he demands again.
I meet Quinn’s eyes and sag a bit. “I met her when I interviewed in Boston back in March. I didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know who I was.”
“Since March?” he growls, dragging his hands through his hair and pacing back and forth between the bed and the window as if he’s coming unglued. “And who the fuck cares that you didn’t know who she was then? You know who she is now. You’ve known it for months.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she says contritely. “We didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t about that.”
He scoffs. “Bullshit it wasn’t. You’re telling me this wasn’t all about revenge?
You fucking my father is a hundred percent meant to hurt me.
Why? Because you knew I brought a girl to my room when we were traveling?
Because I broke up with you over a text?
I have to say, I never thought you’d be such a vindictive bitch, but here we have it. ”
“Cut it out,” I snap.
Russel jabs a finger in my direction. “Don’t tell me what to do. You betrayed me. She’s my ex-girlfriend. My fucking girlfriend.”
“Rus—”
“On what planet am I your girlfriend?” Quinn interjects.
“Why do you keep calling me that? I’ve given you no reason to.
I’ve told you I didn’t want to get back together with you.
I’ve told you we were over. I’ve told you this multiple times.
I’m not your girlfriend, and I haven’t been in over four years. Check your delusions about this.”
“You and your people need to stop telling me I’m deluded.”
I don’t know what that means, and Quinn seems at a loss too.
Russel shakes his head, rage climbing up his face.
“You don’t get it. You’re my girlfriend because that’s how I need it to be.
But more than that”—he climbs back over to me—“you’re my father.
Do you know how sick and twisted that is?
What? You can’t get your own pussy you have to take my sloppy seconds?
Or did you think this would finally be bonding material for us? ”
“I get that you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but you need to calm down. It just happened. We tried to stay away from each other.”
He snorts sardonically. “Oh yeah, I can see you tried real hard.”
“We care a lot about each other,” Quinn states emphatically. “It wasn’t about hurting you.”
He laughs caustically, his hands going to his hips as he glares at us. “Oh, it sure as hell is about me. What kind of piece of shit father does that to his son?”
I stare down at the floor. He’s not wrong to ask that question. It’s one I’ve asked myself over and over again. I don’t know what to say as guilt consumes me.
“Russel, neither of us was trying to hurt you.”
It’s weak at best.
“Shut the fuck up. Do you have any clue what you’ve done? What this could cost me?”
He charges toward Quinn, and I side-step to get in his way, holding my hands out to stop him. “Russel, what are you doing? Calm down.”
He ignores me and talks directly to her.
“Leaving you four years ago was the best thing I’ve done for myself.
Yeah, I loved you. I did. I won’t lie about that.
But I knew you’d suck me down, and truth be told, the moment I hit Dallas it was like breathing a breath of fresh air.
I was free from you. So smart,” he mocks.
“So obnoxiously perfect. Do you know how miserable it’s been to pretend to want you again? ”
That jars both of us back. He’s been so good at pretending. A perfect liar, I had no clue it was all an act.
“Then why did you?” she asks incredulously. “I’ve been trying to shake you off me for months.”
“Because I don’t have a choice!” he shouts, his hand slashing through the air.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say, my hands on my sides, my head tilted as I study him.
“I needed her for my image. To start getting endorsement deals back because I owe more money than I have left, and if I don’t pay up, he’ll collect on my body.”
“What?” both of us cry. I know what he earns, and it’s not a small amount.
He drags his hands through his hair as he paces the room.
It’s like he’s lost touch, and it’s terrifying to watch.
“I lost three deals in Dallas after that nightclub thing I was involved in that went viral. Except that when I lost that money, it ruined everything. I was in so much debt from betting on games and losing that I had to take out a loan from a guy, and now he’s trying to collect. ”
I blink at him, my jaw unhinged and my eyes wide. “Russel—”
“Now this reporter, the one you used to fuck”—he points at me—“has been sniffing around. She’s onto me.
She has to be. But dating Quinn is like a juicy bone to her, and it’s been good for my image.
I’ve gotten deals back. I needed Quinn to keep my image up so I could pay this all off and make it go away. ”
Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
He’s been betting on games. Is he still? Is that why he had his phone with him at halftime? Betting is illegal as hell and will not only get him kicked off the team but could also get him kicked out of the league.
What does he expect me to do with that?
Sit on it and not say anything because I’ve been having an affair with his ex-girlfriend?
Or is he so past the point of rational thought, locked in a tumbling panic now that his plan has fallen apart, that he’s not thinking rationally right now?
“If you were in financial trouble, why didn’t you come to me?”
I have billions. More money than anyone can spend.
“Because you’d rather give all your money to your charity than to me,” he bites out. “I don’t even have a trust fund.”
No, he doesn’t. Because he’s never needed one.
I gave him money constantly when he was a kid, and when he got to the pros, he signed a big contract and didn’t need my money—or so I thought.
Then again, I’m not sure I would have paid his gambling debt.
But I would have gotten him the help he needed, and we would have worked something out.
“Now you’ve fucked all that up! You and your stupid little whore. Ugly fucking bitch,” he spits out at her.
“Hey!” I shout, grabbing him by the collar and pressing him into the wall.
I’m done with this. I push my weight on him and get right up in his face.
“You do not speak to her that way. Not ever. She’s the woman I’m in love with, and you will not disrespect her.
You’re the one fucking up. Betting on games is illegal—”
“What in the hell is happening here?”
Asher’s voice tumbles into the room, but I hold my son for another moment, staring into his eyes. I’m so disappointed in him, it breaks me in two.
“I love you,” I tell him. “That will never change. But you’re a man and not a boy anymore. You’re going to have to suffer the consequences of your actions.”
I release him and step back before I suck in a breath and turn around to face my boss, his wife, and two of my players. I have no clue how much they overheard, but it’s obvious it was a lot.
Without another word, Russel storms off, practically plowing his way through the door and making Crew and Mason jump out of the way.
That didn’t go well, but it was worse than I was expecting.
“Quinn? Are you okay?” Wynter comes straight over to her daughter’s side and crouches down beside the chair. “Did anyone hurt you?”
“Just the car.”
Mason curses under his breath and if I had an ounce of humor in me, that would have cracked a smile on my lips.
“You’re up and out of bed.” Relief paints her tone, but there’s still a strong note of uneasiness about her. “No one told us you were awake, let alone up. I would have liked to be here for that.”
Asher gives me a long, hard look before he moves over to Quinn and takes her other side. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I hit my head and had my spleen removed.”
Crew rolls his eyes but sits on the bed in front of her and places his hands on his knees. Mason hasn’t moved. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“You’re okay?” Crew presses.
“I’m okay,” she assures him. “Tired and weak and definitely in some pain, but I’m okay.”
She glances up at me, and I stare down at her, my heart in my throat and my gut lined with lead. I should leave them to have time with her, but I don’t want to run from this either.
“There’s a lot for me to tell you,” I start, but Mason cuts me off.
“The two of you?” He wags his finger back and forth between Quinn and me.
“Yes,” we both reply.
“Jesus Christ, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.” Crew’s elbows fall to his thighs and he stares right at Quinn. “I knew there was a guy. We all knew. But him?” He points at me without lifting his head. Mason drops into a chair in the corner and puts his head in his hands.
Asher stands, his hands going to his hips. He releases a breath. “I’m not sure how to react right now. Is this… what is this? Tell us exactly what’s been going on.”