Page 62 of Where the Blacktop Ends

What?I type up a quick text message, trying to figure out how any of them know who Georgia is or what they’re talking about.

Troy: Yes. Georgia’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be? And why are you three stalking her?

Cash: Oh, he hasn’t heard yet.

Lawson: Where are you?

Dad: Boy, if you don’t go check on my great-grandson and make sure that pretty nanny is okay, I’ll be on the first flight to New York City to embarrass the hell out of you in front of your politician friends.

Cash: Whose asses are we kicking?

Regan: Want me to come up and help for a bit, Troy?

Troy: What the hell are you all talking about?!

My jaw tightens as I wait for an answer, but instead of a text, Regan sends a link.

I stare at the headline, heart hammering.

"North Carolina Governor Candidate Troy Marshall’s Nanny Seen Saving Mysterious Child—Is This the Love Child of Minnie Meadows and Troy Marshall?"

What. The. Hell.

I open the article in horror as I scroll through the photos of Georgia and Liam in a store that I don’t recognize labeled somewhere in the Hamptons. Picture after picture shows Georgia clutching his hand tightly, her expression worried but calm as she pulls him through the doors, while he’s weeping, snot running down his face, tucked safely behind her.

Then I reach the shots where they’re on the sidewalk, and a large SUV nearly bowls them over. Georgia is sprawled on top of Liam’s body, shielding him completely with her own in somesort of starfish shape. All you can see are his tiny shoes peeking out from beneath her thighs. Her body is only millimeters away from the bumper of the car and being crushed.

My stomach churns as I stare at the photo.

She protected him.

She sacrificed herself for his safety without a single care.

I flip to the next photo—Georgia hoisting Liam onto her back, sprinting down the sidewalk, but not before she gives the crowd a middle finger.

I want to laugh, but right now, all I see is red.

I want to roar. To rage. To cause a scene so explosive the media of this god-forsaken city understands to never touch my family or anyone else I love again.

My family.

Because Georgia is part of that now. I could say it happened last night while I was tasting her, something I’ve been wanting to do for months, but it happened even before then and now that I’ve had her, I intend on making it known to her and everyone else, that I won’t be letting her go. That she isn’t simply an employee who they can harass with their photographs and questions. That she and Liam are an extension of me. And they’ve messed with the wrong family. I promised her she’d be safe in the Hamptons without security, and now they’ve found her.

I glance at the headline again:“North Carolina Governor Candidate Troy Marshall’s Nanny Seen Saving Mysterious Child—Is This the Love Child of Minnie Meadows and Troy Marshall?”

Fucking ridiculous title.

Without a second thought, I spin on my heel, storming toward the train station instead of back to the office. My mind is set—I’m heading back to the Hamptons and taking care of them.

“Diane?” I bark into the phone as soon as she answers.

“Troy, I was wondering when you’d see the article. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“Cancel my meetings for this afternoon and evening.”

“Already done.”

“Field any phone calls, emails, or texts until Monday. I won’t be checking in this weekend.”

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