Sneak Peek #2
As I’m announced as the winner for Silas’s date, I mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of questions he’s going to hit me with.
Oh yeah, I prepared. I memorized responses to what I deemed the top fifteen most likely questions Silas will have.
Why spend the money? It’s for a great cause.
Do you really want to go on a date? No, but it was necessary.
Are you prepared for what the media will say?
Yes, I have a response ready. What the hell do you think you’re doing?
What is needed for now. Are you going to explain yourself?
In private. What, do you think I’ll fuck you?
No, but I think you’ll want to hear me out without prying ears potentially listening in.
As I’m about to motion for Silas to join me outside, I hear a commotion near the back of the room. A voice I know all too well booms across the space. “Motherfucker, did you sleep with my granddaughter?”
Well, shit.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to attend this event.
It’s why I thought I could get away with my little scheme.
In his early eighties, the cold and altitude of Colorado mean he doesn’t visit as often anymore.
But as I watch him storm toward the stage, I frantically try to come up with any kind of explanation.
“Martin,” Silas begins, but Grandpa throws up a hand to stop him.
“Answer the fucking question,” he snarls.
“Grandpa —”
He shakes his head. “No. You are not part of this conversation, young lady.”
I roll my eyes and harrumph. “Seriously? I’m thirty-six, Grandpa. You can’t do this. I’m not a child.”
“I can if you’re acting like one,” he replies. “You don’t think everyone will view this as a childish stunt, trying to get attention?”
“Grandpa!” I gasp, my hand whipping up to cover my mouth.
The absolute vitriol evident in his tone as he glares at me is shocking.
Normally, my grandfather is calm and collected.
He doesn’t lose his temper easily. As his face gets redder, I hastily step forward, placing a soothing hand on his arm. “Let’s go sit somewhere to talk.”
“You don’t think I know what you’re doing?” he hisses, his eyes wild. Breaths come in pants as his gaze darts between me and Silas. “You truly think I didn’t connect the dots?”
My heart drops into my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Grandpa laughs bitterly. “I think you do.”
Silas’s brow furrows. “Should I leave?”
“No,” Grandpa snaps, but allows me to pull him out of the room. He waits until we’re in a back hallway before he begins again. “I did the math. It was almost three years ago when I interviewed him in San Diego.”
Fuck. I close my eyes in complete mortification. My grandfather knows. I’d hoped to drop this bomb on Silas before anyone else. Kelsey only knows because I needed help with research and background information. “Yes.”
“Wait, what?” Silas asks. “Are you talking about my interview?”
We both ignore Silas’s question. “Grandpa, I’m addressing it.”
“Oh? Are you now?” Grandpa replies, his gaze narrowing. “Is that why you dropped a hundred grand on my coach so you can tell him?”
“Yes,” I answer defiantly, tipping my chin up to regard my grandfather. It’s fortunate he’s lost a few inches in height as he’s aged, because now I almost reach his shoulders.
“Tell me what?” Silas asks. “Dropping a hundred thousand dollars to tell me something is absurd, Jordan. You could have just sent me an email.”
I sigh. “Which you would have ignored, or probably even deleted without reading it first. And since you refuse to be alone with me in any instance, this was my only choice.”
His gaze narrows slightly. “Why would you need to be alone with me? Jesus, are you firing me? At a charity event? That’s incredibly crass, even for you.”
“Crass? What? N — no!” I sputter. “I’m not firing you. Why would you automatically jump to that?”
Silas shrugs. “I don’t know what else it would be.”
Grandpa laughs, making me jump. “You’re going to wish it were only a firing, Coach. At least that contract was only for four years. Now you’ve got an eighteen-year commitment.”
Scrunching my eyes shut, I mentally groan. For fuck’s sake. I listen as my grandfather strides away, choosing to keep my eyes closed.
“Jordan.” Silas’s voice is closer and strained. “What the hell is he talking about?”
Well, here goes nothing. I take a deep breath and dive in. “When you were in San Diego interviewing with my grandfather, did you go to The Obsidian Room?”
His eyes widen, panic clear in his expression. “What? How did you know that?”
“Does that really matter?” I ask.
He nods vehemently. “It fucking does matter, Jordan. It’s invite-only. You wear a mask. No names. How would you know I was there?”
“I know you met someone at the bar. And you took her to one of the private rooms, where the two of you talked all night. And you slept together multiple times. And you were gone in the morning, when a broken condom was discovered,” I finish weakly, my voice merely a whisper.
“And when she found out she was pregnant six weeks later, she had no way of tracking you down.”
Silas’s face is ashen, mouth open in shock. “You’re saying I have another child? A two-year-old?”
I nod, taking in his two different colored eyes, the genetic condition that made me begin to assume Silas might be the father. “You have the same eyes. Heterochromia. One green eye, one blue. He looks just like you, actually.”
“He?” Silas rasps. “I have a son?”
“You do,” I whisper. “His name is Beckett.”
His eyes dance between mine. “And who the hell is his mother?”
Wait. Doesn’t he know it’s me?
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