Page 20 of Worth the Risk

When he sank inside of me that first time, I felt something more than physical pleasure. It was like coming home.

The shrill ringing of my phone cut through the memory, and I was glad for the distraction until I saw the name on the screen.

Dad.

My thumb hovered over the red button that would reject the call, but I looked around the nice, big bathroom I was standing in and let out a sigh.

He upgraded my accommodations. The least I could do was take his call.

“Hello?” I said, putting the call on speakerphone so that my hands were free and I could braid my long brown hair.

“Zoey.” It was amazing how just one word from him—my name, no less—could convey displeasure. “My assistant said that you haven’t responded to the invitation to next month’s gala.”

Yeah, Dad. I’m doing great. Thanks for asking.

“I forgot about it,” I said. “You remember that I’m on the island, right? For Ryan’s wedding?”

He let out an impatient sound that made my chest pinch the way it always did when I was a kid and deemed to be wasting his time.

“The invitation was sent five days ago, long before you went to Sirona Isle. The organizers need to know who will be attending, Zoey. I expect you to be more considerate.”

That’s rich, coming from you.

I held back a sigh, knowing it would just make him angry. “I’ll have to check my work schedule and see if I’m available.”

Wrapping a rubber band around the end of my braid, I picked up the phone and headed into the bedroom. Sitting on the end of my bed, I started to pull on sandals while my dad talked.

“You’re still at that hospital?”

He said hospital in the same tone that I expected one would use when talking about shit on the bottom of their shoe. Disgusted.

“Yes, Dad. You know I work at Lakeview.”

He sniffed. “I suppose that I continue to hope you’ll come to your senses and leave that job. A woman of your status shouldn’t run around in scrubs and deal with sick people.”

“I help people,” I said tiredly. We’d had this conversation so many times before, but it never changed. He didn’t approve of my life choices.

“If you want to help people, you could sit on a charity board or something. Lots of high society women do that kind of thing to keep themselves busy.”

I knew what he was talking about. The wives of his rich friends often joined charity boards, but it wasn’t really about helping anyone. It was a way of pretending to have a purpose when really, they were just interested in social status. This gala he wanted me to attend was probably being hosted by one of those women. Half the time, events like that cost more money to throw than they raised for the cause.

“I’ve told you. I don’t have any interest in living off my trust fund,” I said.

“Fine, fine. Don’t take my money. But you could find yourself a man of worth to take care of you instead of running around that hospital.”

When he said man of worth, he meant wealthy. Because that was all that really mattered to the man.

It was really no wonder my mother left when I was only three years old. She’d been married to my dad for a decade at that point, and I doubt she ever received real love from the man.

I placed my hand on my stomach and thought about the baby growing there.

Still, no matter how unhappy my mother was with him, I couldn’t understand how she left her three children behind.

“Dad, I need to go to dinner,” I said, standing from the bed. “I promise that I’ll respond to the gala invitation soon, okay?”

He gave a long-suffering sigh, as if my unwillingness to drop everything to deal with an invitation to a party a month from now was the greatest inconvenience of his life.

“I suppose that will do.”