Page 38 of Sweet Caroline
“I think Fletch is about to have a coronary,” he says, keeping his voice low enough to avoid being overheard, but unable to hide his delight all the same. “You’ve done a number on his ego tonight, Care. And I’msohere for it.”
Caroline introduces him as her best friend, Adrian, and I immediately like the guy; anyone who’s happy to see Fletcher pissed is good in my books.
“I keep telling Care she’s entering her villain era,” he adds, leaning toward me slightly.
“Adrian,” she scolds quietly, although she can’t suppress a smile. “I am not.”
“Long overdue, if you ask me.” Adrian’s amusement is contagious. “Anyway, as much as I would love to enjoy this deliciousschadenfreudewith you two all night, we have a small problem.” Adrian explains there’s some issue with one of the donors in attendance—Portia something?—and pulls Caroline away to help smooth things over.
“Be right back,” she promises, lifting on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. Our eyes lock for a loaded few seconds as she slips away into the crowd, and I realize I’m staring.
“Miles,” a deep voice says behind me, and I whirl around. Pete Brennan’s stepping toward me, slimy self-satisfaction oozing from every pore. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I immediately wish he’d remove it. “Miles Sharpe. Have I got that right?”
“That’s me,” I say, hackles already up.
“Good, good.” He steps closer. Closer than I’m comfortable with, but I resist the impulse to step back. Touching me and getting in my space—it’s is a blatant attempt at a power play. Bosses have pulled these stunts with me before, and I refuse to take the toxic masculinity bait. “Listen, I’m sure it’s no surprise I’ve got contacts with the city.”
“Uh,” I say. “Okay.”
“With law enforcement, specifically.”
My hackles just grew hackles. Every cell in my body is at attention, my stomach already knotting over where this conversation is headed.
He lifts his glass, and I watch the amber liquid slip between his thin lips, wishing I had a drink of my own. “Found out some interesting information about you, son.”
My jaw clenches at the termson. He can fuck right off with that condescending shit. Still, I have to bite back the impulse to scramble for an explanation. What would I even say? I was young, fucked up, and drunk? That much is probably obvious.
“I’ll be plain with you, Miles,” he goes on. “I’m willing to keep this under my hat. Caroline doesn’t need to know, and the media doesn’t need any help digging up dirt. So I’ve taken steps to keep the information buried.”
I’m not sure what he wants me to say.Thank you?I settle on a cautious, “Alright.”
“And I’ll let this charade play out.” He gestures toward his daughter with his drink. “You and Caroline.”
Let?
I glance over my shoulder. Caroline and Adrian are speaking seriously with a middle-aged woman in a floral dress. Caroline’s too engrossed in conversation to notice me talking to her dad.
“On one condition,” Pete adds.
I turn back to her father, narrowing my eyes.
“You’re on your best behavior from now until the election. No drama, no scandals, nothing. You treat my daughter right and play the doting boyfriend. Smile for the cameras and make it look like the real deal.”
“We weren’t planning to?—”
“Caroline’s forced my hand, Miles,” he says, cutting me off, “by bringing you here tonight instead of coming with Fletcher likeshe was supposed to. And God knows I love my daughter, but I’m not a man who likes to be surprised. So you’re gonna make this thing between you appear legitimate. Stable. Hell, I’d settle forboring. But this little game of yours ends when the votes are cast. You’re gone. Out of her life when the election’s over.”
“Why?” I ask.
It’s not like I had my sights set on being a permanent part of Caroline’s life, but hearing her father tell me what I can and can’t do has my rebellious side snarling like a cornered animal.
“Well,” he says, looking me up and down, “you’re just not her type, son.”
Again with theson. Fuck this old prick and his bullshit. And fuck him for trying to make his daughter’s decisions for her. At this point, I don’t even care about our relationship being fake; she should be free to do what she wants. And so should I, for that matter.
“Caroline deserves a man who fits in with her… lifestyle. Her status.”
There it is.
