Page 14 of Claim Me, Colt

"You don't have a choice in the matter."

"I have every choice. You're my daughter—"

"I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"Not when those decisions threaten everything we've built." His mask slips completely now, revealing the calculating politician who's spent decades accumulating power. "Do you have any idea what this will do to the campaign? To the family's reputation? To Jonathan's career?"

"I don't care about Jonathan's career."

"Well, you should. Because if you think you can just disappear into the woods and play house with some..." His gaze rakes overColt with undisguised contempt. "Some mountain hermit, you're more naive than I thought."

The insult hangs in the air like smoke. I feel Colt tense beside me.

I gesture around the cabin. "I matter here, not as Senator Morrison's daughter or Jonathan's fiancée, but as myself."

"And who exactly is that?" Dad's voice drips with scorn. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like a spoiled little girl throwing a tantrum."

The words hit like a slap, but instead of crumbling, I feel something inside me crystallize into diamond-hard resolve.

"Then you're not looking very hard," I say calmly. "Because I'm the woman who's finally found her spine."

Colt steps forward then, his presence suddenly filling the doorway.

"I think this conversation's over," he says quietly, but there's steel in his voice that makes the Secret Service agents shift nervously.

Dad looks between us, clearly calculating his options. Political men always do—they never make a move without considering all the angles.

"This isn't finished, Simone," he says finally. "You can't hide up here forever."

"I'm not hiding," I reply. "I'm living."

He turns to go, then pauses.

"When you come to your senses—and you will—don't expect the same opportunities to be waiting for you. Some bridges, once burned, can't be rebuilt."

"Then I guess I'd better learn to swim."

He stares at me for a long moment, this daughter who's suddenly become a stranger to him. Then he walks back to his Town Car without another word.

The entourage follows, all climbing into their vehicles with the efficiency of a well-oiled political machine.

As they drive away, disappearing down the mountain road like a bad dream, I lean back against Colt's solid chest. His arms come around me automatically.

"You okay?" he murmurs against my hair.

"Better than okay," I breathe. "I’m finally free.”

Epilogue

Simone

Threemonthslater

I’m standing in the front yard, barefoot in the grass, painting the woods that stretch beyond our cabin. Summer has deepened the greens, and the breeze smells like pine and wildflowers. Colt’s replacing boards on the front porch—shirtless, because he knows exactly what that does to me—when a battered pickup rumbles up the gravel drive.

“Expecting company?” I call.

Colt straightens, setting down his hammer. “That’s Boone. He’s got a cabin near the lake.”

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