Page 34 of One Little Victory

“Father—”

He held up a hand, silencing us both, and stood, bracing both fists on the table and causing his soup bowl to wobble. “You’ll continue this facade until my case is finished, then I have no desire to see you again.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Addison said, standing up and throwing her napkin on the chair.

Fuck.

I gripped her hip, squeezing her waist to keep control of my temper, and she reached down, tracing circles over my knuckle with one finger. “Our relationship is none of your business, and going forward, all charity events, including the dance competition, will be our decision to make, not yours.”

She gave me an out of the competition, refusing to let my father dictate our involvement. Why?

Rubbing my thumb over her hipbone, my anger at his words felt hazy as something pushed to the forefront of my mind.

Rub. Rub. Rub.

My nostrils flared and I sucked in a breath, my fingers digging into her waist. She made no indication she felt the intrusion, continuing to trace my knuckle like she hadn’t upped the ante.

No panties.

I let my fingers skate over her dress, and sure enough, not a panty line in sight.

“I care about your son very much, and that’s why we waited before going public with our relationship. He’s an extraordinary man who’s not only extremely talented but loves his family very much and constantly puts them first. It’s a pity he doesn’t have a father who respects his decisions and supports him.”

Fucking shit. Pretty sure I just came in my pants like a teenager.

My father blinked, and my girl didn’t flinch. She kept rubbing my knuckle like a commando-wearing badass, almost daring him to respond so she could retort with another silver-tongued barb. Without another word, he collected his scotch glass and walked out of the dining room, not looking back.

Addison looked at me and then my mother, ready to apologize or fill the silence, but it was my turn for words as I stood up and met her eyes.

“He had no right to say those things about you, honey. I’m sorry for his behavior.”

“You have no reason to apologize, Simon. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

I cupped her cheek and leaned in, brushing my lips against the side of her mouth. “Ladies, please excuse me, as I need to have a word with my father.”

Both nodded, and I lifted my martini glass, carrying it out of the room and to my father’s study. I had a feeling I’d need it.

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