Page 124 of Bossy Wicked Prince
“Oh really?” He smirks. “What makes him think I’d want to do that?”
“Because I’ll give you a better story,” I say. “About my father and the secret life he led. I’ll give you all the information if you never print anything about Cat again.”
I expected Cutter to light up with excitement, thrilled to get the story. Instead, he tilts his head and frowns. “Does that mean she’s ending our deal?”
“What deal?” Sharmi asks, kicking me under the table in a silent instruction to let her do the talking.
“The one with Eleanor Walsh.”
It feels like a stone drops in my stomach. What does Mom have to do with this?
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Sharmi says vaguely. She glances over at me, looking for clarification I can’t give her.
“Eleanor doesn’t want us printing the story about the second family,” Cutter says. “She gives us stories about the Walsh family and the UPS inner workings, and we publish those instead. Now Nate wants to work out a new deal?”
Suddenly, the world feels like it’s very far away. Cutter and Sharmi keep speaking, but their voices sound like they’re above water while I dunk my head in a pool.
My mother is the source. She’s been behind every leak at UPS. She probably has her own PI to tail me when it’s convenient, and I’m sure she’s pressured our employees to pass her information. She must be the one who was feeding the papers information about Cat. Does she even care that it hurt me, too? Does she have any idea how helpless I feel, knowing every paper in the city is assailing the woman I love, and I can’t do anything?
Or does she know and not even care?
The truth is, Mom would rather make me miserable than tarnish Dad’s reputation. Even though he’s gone, leaving me to pay the price for his secrets.
I can’t believe she knew about the other family all along. But why am I surprised? Nothing gets past Eleanor Walsh. She might have even known back when Dad was alive.
But why didn’t she talk to me? Did she even consider how hard it must be for me to keep this secret? For years, I’ve lived in fear of Mom finding out and getting her heart broken. I was so stupid, wasting my time worrying about it.
You can’t break a heart made from stone.
I feel a hand on my shoulder—James, bringing me back to reality. Cutter is standing and gathering his things. The meeting’s over.
“We’ll get back to you soon once we’ve discussed this amongst ourselves,” Sharmi says. She leads the reporter to the door and shuts it firmly behind him.
“What do you want to do, Nate?” James asks. “You still want to make the trade? Your father’s secret family for Cat?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. First, I have to talk to her.”
My Porsche moves smoothlyover the familiar roads. I’ve driven them so many times before, I make every turn automatically, barely needing to focus.
Which is good, because all I can think right now is,What the fuck?
I’ve held onto this secret for half my life. It’s tainted my entire relationship with my mother, the guilt I feel whenever we’re in the same room. My father’s secret, the ghost that’s haunted me since I was sixteen.
I had no idea I wasn’t the only one it haunted.
I park the car at the end of Mom’s long driveway. She never moved after Dad died. The house—hell, I might as well call it what it is, the mansion—is way too big for her, but that didn’t matter with the army of servants she hires to keep it tidy. Why not have a half-dozen bedrooms you never use?
Cat’s disapproving voice whispers in my head,Imagine how many people would die to sleep in those rooms.
Slamming the door, I storm up the front door into the house. The door isn’t locked—a sophisticated security feature I had installed myself. Facial recognition on the front cameras means it’ll always open for me, Mom, and the few servants trusted enough to be allowed to use the front door.
I find Mom in the living room, drinking a glass of white wine as she flips through an issue ofVogue.She’s wearing steel blue silk pajamas with an ivory silk robe. Dressed flawlessly as always, for an audience of no one.
“Nathaniel!” she says, closing her magazine. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“How dare you sell stories about me and Cat?” I growl. “What gives you the right to share my private life with the world? Do you even care what I want?”
Annoyance flickers across her face. “You’re a public figure, Nathaniel. You know that. Interest in your personal life is part of that.”
