Page 93 of The Irresistible One
Regardless, the hate hadn’t thinned at all.
I avoided the DMs and went straight to our account feed, noticing the amount of followers we’d gained overnight. That was an interesting turn of events, for sure. I wondered if they wanted a front-row seat to the drama, getting alerted whenever we made a post—something we’d kept up with, even after the Gordon fire, but we’d just turned off comments—or if the bad PR had helped somehow and the influx was from new and actual fans of our brand.
There was no way of knowing, not when reservations were still down almost fifteen percent.
But what I did notice, aside from the follower count, was that the total amount of likes on each post had increased, which skyrocketed our engagement. Whether that was for good reasons or bad, there were millions of eyes on our brand.
“I think this is the fastest I’ve ever gotten you home,” Paul said.
I glanced up from my phone as he pulled onto my street, relieved by the familiarness unfolding as he weaved through the narrow sections until he reached my gate.
“Expect a bonus to be deposited tomorrow.”
“No need for that, Colson.”
I texted my assistant, telling her to put a thousand in Paul’s account by the morning, and replied to him, “The only thing I wanted in this world was to get home. You made that happen. It’s the least I can do.” I pounded his shoulder before I opened my own door. “See you in the a.m.”
“Yes, you will.”
I closed the door behind me and entered my house through the front, immediately pulling at the bottom of my polo to untuck the shirt from my belt. I unbuttoned the finalbutton at the top and dropped my bag in the entryway. There was laughter coming from the living room, so that was where I headed.
Sometimes, I called out to my daughter, giving her a heads-up that I was home. Sometimes, I enjoyed surprising her. I went with the latter, knowing the moment she detected my presence, she would stop whatever she was doing and squeal as she ran into my arms.
That was what I expected when I reached the base of the living room and said, “Hey, baby. Daddy’s home,” in the already-loud room.
But what I saw made my jaw clench. My heart was beating at a pace like I’d just finished a run. I tightened my hands into balls, wishing they were double-fisting glasses.
“Hi, Daddy!”
My daughter didn’t get up from the floor. She just smiled, holding the doll she was playing with, looking her happiest.
It took a long moment before I replied, “Hi, baby.”
I then slowly shifted my gaze to Michelle, demanding an explanation.
But my nanny didn’t seem to have one. She lifted her shoulders, her expression showing she was just as confused as I was.
Except there was no confusion here.
What I was looking at was premeditated, thoroughly thought out, and I didn’t fucking like it.
“Daddy, it finally happened!” Ellie shouted. “Everything I wanted came true!”
“It did.” I moved my gaze one last time, landing on the other little girl who occupied the large area rug with my daughter. “Hello, Abbi with anI.”
Sophie’s daughter waved at me. “Hi, Mr. Weston!”
Sophie, you have some fucking nerve.
I could have asked Abbi why she was here. I could havepulled Michelle into the kitchen and demanded an explanation.
But I would go straight to the source instead, which was what Sophie wanted—I was positive of that.
“Excuse me for a second,” I told the group.
I went into my bedroom and shut the door. Sophie’s number had been blocked since I had walked into Hayden’s office in Fort Lauderdale and found her sitting behind his desk. But due to her manipulation, I unblocked her, hitting the icon to call her. As I held the phone to my ear, I didn’t take a seat on my bed. I went over to the window and stared at the view, hoping the scenery of the Hollywood Hills would provide the calm I needed to get through this.
Because this—this fucking little game Sophie played—was bullshit.
