Page 118 of Sold to Her Enemy

But every night before I go to bed, Adrian’s face swims in my mind, confusing me, as I wonder how can I trust that man ever again?

“You weren’t hiding it, Mckenna, but it doesn’t help that you’re on Alice’s website.”

“She is not,” Alice says.

We step out together through the back door.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at my website. My oldest daughter looks after that. I told her not to put Mckenna’s picture on there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Grace says, reading from her phone. “Mckenna Moran is a welcome addition to Hearthstone Veterinary; with her love and passion for horses, she’s a natural fit.”

“Consider her fired,” Alice says.

“I can’t hide from the world forever.” I glance at the little cottage on the hill. It’s so perfect. It makes my heart all gooey just by looking at it. I try to imagine Adrian in jeans and a plaid shirt, with muck boots on. It’s a very sexy picture, but I don’t see it happening.

We may be from the same world, but I’m determined to leave it.

How can I trust someone who won’t forgive my father?

I would always wonder if he loved me or if he was going to hold what my father might have done over my head, if it’s going to be a kernel of resentment between us, just there slowly growing under the surface.

“You deserve to be happy, Mckenna. No matter what’s in your past,” Grace says softly.

“Thanks. Should I come around with you and face them?”

“No, it’s private property, and they need to leave. I’m on it.” Grace squeezes my hand. “See you later.”

“Thanks,” I tell my second mother.

“Don’t let other people tell you how to live, Mckenna. You’re going to be a great vet.” Alice claps me on the shoulder.

I want to cling to her words and show her how much I appreciate her, but I can’t trust myself to speak.

I do want to be happy, but as much as I tell myself I can be, I don’t think I will be without the man with deep chocolate eyes who calls me hellion.

25 ADRIAN

“Iwant visual confirmation that those flowers were delivered.”

“Mr. McIntyre, we don’t require that of our delivery drivers.” The woman’s confusion is evident in her tone; it grates on my skin like sandpaper.

“Then it’s time you do! Can you send the delivery driver back and ask them to take a picture of the bouquet?”

“I assure you the arrangement was delivered at ten am yesterday and received.”

I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window of Colossus Corp. I know I should give up this office overlooking the square, but it’s the last of my father’s holdings, and I haven’t been able to let it go yet.

“I want to know without a doubt that those flowers were delivered, and I want to know right now.”

I turn at the sound of the door opening behind me. My father steps in the room, in a suit, no tie, which passes as casual for him.

“Mr. McIntyre, I can’t accommodate that request.”

“Of course you can!” My father raises an eyebrow at me. I uncurl my fist, take a deep breath, and flop into my office chair. “Are you sure those flowers were delivered?”

“I’m very sure, Mr. McIntyre,” says.

“Thanks.” I end the call.

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