Page 62 of Downfall

Sorry.

She didn’t pick up when I called either. Why is everyone in my damn family ignoring me?

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and when I lift it, I see that it’s an unknown number. I slide my thumb along the bottom of the screen, answering the call.

“Hey, what have you got?”

“Hello to you too,” the cheery voice on the other end says.

“I’m not paying you for pleasantries.”

He clears his throat. “Right, well, not much to report, but he is fucking his assistant.”

“The blonde one or the brunette?”

“Blonde.”

I chuckle. “Of course. What else?”

“That’s really it. The man keeps everything completely locked down. I mean other than his extracurricular activities, which he doesn’t seem to care who sees⁠—”

It's ironic since he talked to me about discretion all those years ago. Now he doesn’t give a shit who knows that he routinely cheats on his wife.

“What about the arrest record?”

“Still nothing. That shit is sealed tighter than⁠—”

I blow a breath into the phone. “Spare me whatever gross analogy you were about to make.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll keep digging.”

I end the call without saying goodbye. Chester is a good PI, some might even say the best, but he’s also a pain in my ass. What he doesn’t realize is how informative his phone call was. I’m not shocked my father is fucking his assistant, Nicole, but the fact that he isn’t fucking his other assistant, Claire anymore means that he screwed up. Claire found out about Nicole or he pissed her off some other way. None of them seem to care that the man is married, but when it comes to his other side pieces, they suddenly all get territorial. Anyway, Claire is most likely angry which means there’s a good chance she’ll be more loose lipped than usual. Hell hath no fury and all that.

I know my father is involved in some shady shit, I just have to find out what. If I can get Claire to admit to what he’s been doing behind closed doors, or at the very least, if she has any information about the arrest record, maybe I’ll have enough leverage to get him out of our lives once and for all.

Either way, it’s worth a shot. He may have been able to lock me away when he didn’t want to deal with me in the past, but I’m not a little boy anymore, and it’s time he knew.

26

SKYLAR

The words on the screen blur together until they become a giant black blob. I’ve been at this all day, and still nothing. I can’t find one single, solitary piece of evidence to hold against Marshall Astor. The only lead I have is an arrest record that is still impossible to access. I should feel guilty for shirking my duties, but the paper has been pretty quiet this week. Everyone has gotten their articles in on time with minimal drama.

Clicking back to the last page, I groan, falling forward until my head hits the keyboard. It doesn’t help that as I attempt to investigate this man, I can’t stop thinking about what I did with his son in the bathroom at a party a few nights ago. I’m not sure what I was expecting when he followed me upstairs, but him ordering me to my knees was not it. Still, I can’t find it in myself to regret what happened. I wanted him to stop treating me like glass, and he finally did. Does that mean I automatically trust that he won’t shatter my heart again? No, but I’m not sure I can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist or that there’s nothing more between us beyond a mutually beneficial marriage.

There’s a soft knock at my door, so I raise my head, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Come in.”

“Hey.” Ashton’s broad frame fills the doorway. His dress shirt stretches across his chest, and his light brown hair is perfectly styled. Has he been working out? I feel a twinge of guilt for having been so caught up in my own shit that I have no idea what’s going on in his life.

“Hey,” I answer. “I can lock up.”

“Thanks, but that’s not why I came in here.”

“Oh.” I shuffle around some papers on my desk. “Did you need the article line-up for this issue? It’s here somewhere.”

“No, Sky.” He walks toward my desk, pressing the flat of his hand against mine. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m f⁠—”