Page 80 of Ruse
“I don’t believe a goddamn word you’re saying. Tell me, was this your game plan all along?” I chuckle. “Who am I kidding of course it was. You thought you’d come here and what, destroy the family of the man who destroyed yours. Payback right, revenge against the man who screwed your mom by screwing his daughter.” This time a louder laugh bursts out of me, masking the tears I’m trying to keep at bay.
“I have to say I don’t blame you for that. I wanted to end you myself when I found out you and your whore of a mother were coming to stay with us, but deep down I couldn’t. Not because I gave a shit, but because I realized I’m not that kind of person. It’s good to see you are. At least it’s not too late to take back everything I almost said, everything that happened between us was a lie, Maverick.”
In that moment, my father rushes toward him, slamming his fist into Maverick’s unsuspecting, yet much deserving jaw. “You son of a bitch!” he shouts, the crowd gasping at the horror, bloody on the floor spewing out of Mav’s mouth. I swear I hear someone shout to call 911. But although he’s spitting out blood, Maverick barely stumbles back before returning my father’s assault with a fierce hit of his own, which knocks him on his ass.
Daphne rushes to my father’s side, taking her husband's side over her own son who stands above them with bloodied knuckles. “You did it,” my dad spits out, blood mixed with saliva and a cracked tooth landing on the concrete. “I gave you the money, yet you still did it. You bastard are just as dirty and corrupt as your father.” He spits again this time aiming it toward Maverick’s feet.
Mav chuckles, a devilish sound I’ve never heard from him that sends shivers up my spine, but not in a good way. No, this side of him is terrifying.
“You are one to talk, Bancroft,” he mocks, facing the crowd, making sure everyone in attendance hears him. “An illegitimate child while you were still married to your wife, not to mention your two-year-old twins at home waiting for you. And don’t let me forget the eight-year affair with another married woman.”
The last part snaps me out of whatever anger induced daze I’m in. “What are you talking about?”
Mav shifts to face me, turning his back to the crowd gathered around, at the same time my father struggles to stand. “The real reason I was sent off to boarding school across the country at age ten. I caught your father, balls deep in my dear mother when I came home sick from school one day.” He laughs, though it isn’t humor showing on his face. “You should have seen how they tried everything to bribe me and convince me to keep their dirty little secret.”
I pale at his confession, unable to believe anything he’s saying, but deep in my gut, trepidation stirs like a bubbling, boiling, pot of doubt. It can’t be true. My father couldn’t have done that to us. He’s a decrepit man, but he’s no monster. He can’t be, because that would make me the daughter of a vile son of a bitch, and I’m not sure I couldn’t handle it.
However, the expression, the guilty, frenzied expression marring my father’s face, is a dead giveaway that what Maverick is saying, is the truth.
“I agreed to keep quiet, after all I wasn’t even sure what it all meant. Though the risk was too big for Austin to sit and do nothing. So, he did what he does best. He lied and convinced my mother to ship me off in order to keep their affair secret. Of course, under the ruse of a better future for me. My father couldn’t care less, he was never home. Which is why when she suggested it, he agreed.”
The sound of breaking glass has me jumping in terror. “This is fucking bullshit!” Brooklyn shouts, throwing another glass from the cocktail table beside him on the floor at my father’s feet, the glass shards, and amber liquid pooling under him. “You make me fucking sick, you dirty, cheating bastard.”
I follow my brother's gaze and turn my attention to my father, who looks completely devastated. Shamed, embarrassed, seething with fury, but the one emotion lacking, one I don’t think I’ve ever seen from him nor ever plan to, is nowhere to be seen. Remorse. “You were going to pay him off to keep quiet?” I ask, unafraid of his answer, since I highly doubt anything else at this point would shock me.
Austin had the fucking nerve to play the martyr, caring more about what his guests think of him than his own two, well three, children think. “He came to me with information about the child. Said you, your brother, the entire world would find out if I didn’t pay him twenty million dollars by the end of the week. He was going to use that money to take off, since he doesn’t get a cent of his inheritance until he turns twenty-one.”
I take it all back. Every word, every thought, every single expectation. I never expected he would say that. I meet Maverick’s dark gaze, blank and devoid of emotion. “Is that true, did you? You were just going to blackmail my father, ruin our lives and bail, like a fucking coward!”
“I didn’t take the money and you know that,” he demands, meeting my father’s scornful gaze, admitting his part in all this yet trying to justify not being the one to blame. He turns to me, taking my hands in his. “Nyx, I ripped the check. I told him I didn’t want any of it anymore, I burned the information my PI gave me. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“That was your plan all along. That’s what you came back for.” My voice falls to nothing but a hushed whisper that fades into the night, the agony in my chest prohibiting me from being able to speak any louder.
“I had no choice in coming back, believe me if I had, I wouldn’t have returned, but yes. I was furious. I couldn’t let him get away with it all, ruining my life. I hired a PI to dig up all the dirt I could get. The worst of the worst, the stuff buried so deep you would never think to find, but I did. He uncovered the birth certificate, the money trail which proved your father paid Chelsea Landon child support from the day his daughter was born. Levi. His signature is on the fucking birth certificate.”
For a second, I forgot we aren't the only ones standing here, but the loud gasps and horror-stricken expressions are a clear reminder that once again my family’s dirty laundry is being aired and hung up to dry. I could only assume we’re next to be hung. “Congratulations Maverick, now it's out in the open for all to hear.” My fake smile falls. “You had no right.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re really mad at me for all of this, like I’m the one who did this to your family?”
I take a step forward to meet him, his guilty eyes burning into me as I cup his chin with my palm, the roughness of his sharp stubble scaring my fingertips making them feel like they’re bleeding.
“Don’t worry baby,” I whisper loud enough for my father to hear. “As far as I’m concerned, Austin Bancroft is dead to me. But do you know what,” I murmur pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, “I’m not even surprised. Him I expected this from, but you.” Shaking my head I inhale a sharp breath, begging the tears pricking my eyes to hold on tight and not reveal themselves until I’m in the safety of my solitude. “I never thought you were capable of hurting me the way you just did.”
Mav’s palm cups my face as he leans forward and pressed his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. All he does is hover over me, softly grazing mine with his, expecting me to be the one to make the first move and show him I forgive him. “Nyx, baby. I swear I… I don’t even know how she found out.”
“Don’t turn this on her. I know the fucking bitch did it for sport. For the mere enjoyment of seeing me fall lower than rock bottom. Tate’s a conniving, scheming bitch, but she’s not the one who did this to me. She’s the one who outed the men who’ve hurt me more than I could have ever imagined possible. All of them.”
With a soft kiss, a kiss which my body is begging me to give into, yet my mind is reminding me to steer clear of, I say my final goodbye and pull away. I close my eyes, unable to see the raw emotion in his. “My father broke my heart a long time ago, but you Maverick Carter, you destroyed every last piece of me.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
MAVERICK
My knuckles were white, the circulation of blood completely absent from the intensity with which I was gripping the steering wheel of my Aston, speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway at over one-hundred and twenty miles an hour. It was lifeless out here in the middle of the night, not a soul in sight as I drove out to the private landing strip my father’s plane was awaiting my arrival.
It was almost laughable how he texted me the moment I walked out of the Bancroft’s and vaguely said we needed to talk. We both knew that translated to you fucked up and now I have to clean your mess, again. How he discovered so quickly what happened is beyond me. Unless, of course, my mother was to blame for his sudden reappearance, though I’m not so sure she’d contact him after what had just gone down.
Chaos. No, worse than chaos. Complete and utter devastation.
