Torrid Rush: A Single Dad Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 3)

by Scarlett Avery

  “You’re going to have to be more explicit.”

  The security guard takes a long step to the side, giving us some privacy.

  “I want to know why the hell Daddy’s bankers, accountants and lawyers seem to all think you hold the purse strings to my life?”

  Notice how she doesn’t ask about Naomi.

  “They’ve been trying to reach you since the funerals. You left after. You didn’t even bother showing up at the reception. No one’s seen you since,” I tell her.

  “I needed time. I was seeking solace in a monastery in Nepal for two and a half months. I was looking for inner peace in the wake of everything that had happened to me. It worked for Jace. I figured it could work for me.”

  “Did it?”

  “Not really.”

  Surprise, surprise.

  “And since you’ve been back to Ibiza, you never thought of checking in?”

  “How do you know I live in Ibiza?”

  “I’ve known since you ran off on me, Lauren.”

  Her look of surprise is quickly replaced with indifference.

  “Well,” she shrugs, “I didn’t think it was necessary to be in contact. I assumed my father had set things in place. It’s not as if I was going to run the family company after his passing. He has very educated people in place to do that. I thought it was best to stay out of their hair.”

  “Lauren, your entire family died and other than a cameo appearance at the funerals, you remained steadfast in your decision to stay away. That’s your lame excuse?”

  “Like I said, I needed time.”

  Still no mention of her daughter.

  “And now you’re here demanding answers.”

  “Damn right I am. I ran out of the money my grandparents left me. Shouldn’t I be getting money from my father’s estate?”

  “No.”

  “Wh—what are you talking about?”

  “It isn’t my decision, Lauren. It’s all spelled out in your father’s will.”

  She shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t believe it. There’s no way he would’ve left me without a penny. I get that we didn’t see eye to eye on certain things, but I’m still his daughter.”

  “Had you been at the lawyers’ office you would’ve known—”

  “Stop saying that!” she yells.

  “What do you want me to tell you?”

  She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes for a breath. With an exasperated exhale she says, “That you’ll give me the money I’ve grown accustomed to every month.”

  “Won’t happen. It’s not part of our budget.”

  “You can change that,” she argues.

  “No. That goes against your father’s will,” I counter.

  “We’re going around in circles. It’s very simple. You’re at the helm of my father’s company now.” She fakes a smile. “One phone call to the bankers and they’ll wire me a little money.” You mean a lot of money. Lauren has been living off sixty thousand dollars a month every month since she was twenty-one.

  “Not happening,” I repeat.

  “Stop being an asshole, Holt. I need to cover my living expenses.”

  That sets me off.

  “Jesus Christ, Lauren. Do you realize we’ve been arguing for the last twenty minutes and not once have you asked about your daughter? You’re interested in knowing how you can get your hands on money from the company she owns, but you have no interest in finding out how she’s doing. Even after four years, you don’t give a damn. I thought with age came wisdom. Clearly, that logic goes to waste in your case. Do you hate Naomi that much?” I yell.

  She swallows hard before averting her gaze. “I can’t hate someone I don’t know.” For fuck’s sake. “You’ve always been better at parenthood than I was.”

  “As if babies came with instruction manuals,” I snort. “Don’t you want to see her?” My voice breaks.

  After the birth, Lauren didn’t want to have anything to do with Naomi. Three weeks after our daughter was born, Lauren had no desire to name her. She left it to me. So I did. Mom thought it was postpartum depression, which she’s very familiar with, it turns out, it wasn’t. Lauren had too much partying left in her to be dragged down by a child.

  “I’d only fuck her up.” She brings her fingers to her temples and rubs. “I need money, Holt.”

  “Unbelievable. You’re really a heartless bitch,” I spit in her face.

  “I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. I left because I couldn’t do it. You know that.”

  “You didn’t even try,” I remind her. “I hired help, so you didn’t have anything else to do other than to focus on Naomi and shower her with love and affection.”

  “It’s water under the bridge now.” Her indifference never ceases to amaze me. “The more important question is how the hell did my father leave you his entire dynasty?”

  “He didn’t leave it to me, Lauren. He left it to Naomi––his only grandchild. Since she’s just a kid, I’m the executor of her trust until she turns twenty-six.”

  “But, everyone is dead. I’m the next in line,” she laments.

  “Your father decided you weren’t responsible enough to take over his company.” He was right.

  Yeah, that’s the other the reason why I had to come back to LA.

  For his sixtieth birthday, Craig O’Broin, also known as the king of American whiskey, chartered a yacht and invited his entire family for a four-day cruise from Miami to the Bahamas. Everyone showed up except for Lauren, who’d been estranged from her family since she abandoned her child. I was invited, but since Naomi had been running a fever the days leading up to the big birthday, I couldn’t make it. Flying across an ocean when she was sick, was out of the question. A violent freak storm capsized the yacht, forcing it to kneel to Mother Nature’s fury. Not even the experienced crew was able to keep control of the vessel. Craig O’Broin and his wife died on that fatal night. So did everyone else in his entire family. His four sons, three daughters-in-law, six grandkids, four brothers––and their wives and kids––all dead in a blink of an eye. There were only two survivors of the O’Broin clan––Lauren and Naomi.

  The likelihood of a child taking over the helm of the most successful whiskey producing company in America was one in one hundred million. Naomi broke the mold. Lauren’s father carefully planned his succession. He chose to bypass his daughter in favor of his granddaughter.

  “What makes you capable of running my family legacy? You’re a fucking washed-up rock star.” Lauren spits in my face.

  “That used to play in my favor.”

  “Those days are behind us, Holt.” Her eyes are stone cold.

  “You’re right. Allow me to spell it out for you. My job is to make sure your father’s company lasts for the next one-hundred years… and beyond. I’ve hired the right people to manage Byrne Whiskey and ensure it grows for when Naomi is ready to take over.”

  “My father loathed you. He didn’t want me to be associated with anyone in the music industry and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with my child. Same for my mother. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “After you bailed out on Naomi, I went to see your father begging him to reach out to you. I figured he’d know where you were since he was paying your way through life. I went with Naomi so he could see how perfect she was. Our first meeting didn’t go well. I told him to fuck off when he thought I was there to use my daughter as leverage for a quick payday. A month later he showed up at my office. He had hired a team of investigators and quickly found out I didn’t need his money and I didn’t have questionable skeletons in my closet. After that, he became part of Naomi’s life. We introduced him, your uncles, brothers and male cousins as uncles. Your mom became an aunt. Same for your sisters-in-law, aunts and female cousins. I wanted to protect Naomi.” I let out a long sigh. “Two weeks after the tragic accident, I got a visit in London from a lawyer who delivered life-changing news for our daughter.”

  “I can’t b
elieve my own father fucked me over from the grave,” she says, her hands banging against the iron gate.

  He did. Big time.

  Once it became clear Lauren wasn’t going to embrace motherhood, her father cut her off. For the past three years, she’s been living off her inheritance from her grandparents. Her father’s will stipulates she’s only entitled to profits from the shares he bought under her name when she was born. Nothing more.

  “Fuck, I should’ve never pierced those condoms.”

  Huh?

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “It wasn’t an accident, Holt. And, I wasn’t on the pill. I stopped after the first night we hooked up. I wanted to get pregnant.”

  My face contorts into a riot of emotions.

  “You’re fucking joking? You tricked me?”

  She responds with a one-shoulder shrug.

  “Speak up, woman!” I yell.

  “You were hot and sexy. Every woman was vying for your attention. I wanted to trap you. Taking care of a baby turned out to be not as fun as I had expected.”

  I had my sneaky suspicions. I mean, seriously, what are the odds? Now I know. Still, hearing her admit to it, leaves me flabbergasted.

  “You disgust me,” I spit out in her face.

  “What’s done is done. You seem to like playing the daddy role. I see now it was a bad idea. Had she not been born, Daddy would have no one to leave his fortune to, but me.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “Get the fuck out of my face.”

  “No! I. Need. More. Money!” Her face is beet red. “How am I supposed to survive on ten thousand dollars a month?”

  “Plenty of people do. In fact, most Americans will never earn that much.”

  “I’m. Not. Most. Americans.” Her comment drips with disdain.

  “Ask Legion.”

  “Wh—what?”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  “How did you know?”

  I snicker at the look of shock on her face.

  “You’re discreet, but there’s always someone watching… even in Ibiza.”

  Legion, aka, Kris Faire is one of the biggest rock stars to come out of Australia. His well-publicized drinking and drug problems are no secret. He’s been in and out of rehab more times than he’s been to the bathroom. She’s been with him for five months now. Like she couldn’t find anyone better. I don’t need to know what’s going on in her personal life—and she’s had plenty of lovers since she left—but I make it my business to know because we have a child together. In this case my good friend and UK lawyer, Barrett Ascott blew the whistle on them. He even had photos as proof. Bless him.

  “Legion has an entourage. I’m sure someone can hook you up with a job to boost your monthly income,” I tell her.

  “I’m not going to work,” she grimaces.

  “I can’t help you, Lauren.”

  Silence stretches between us as we stare at each other.

  The pounding of my heart is unbearable.

  When she squints her eyes into a sliver of determination, I should be more concerned, but hey, Tim said I have nothing to worry about.

  “Mark my words, Holt. I’m going to sue my father’s estate. I’m going to bury you in fucking legal paper—”

  “It’s your right to fight this, but—”

  “And I’m also going to seek partial custody of your child.”

  My heart sinks.

  “Oh, now you take an interest?” I smirk.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “We both know damn well you don’t want her, Lauren.”

  “She’s become useful all of a sudden.”

  “You’re a fucking bitch,” I throw in her face.

  “You leave me no choice. She’s now officially my insurance policy,” she sneers.

  “You are not taking my daughter off to Spain.”

  “I still own multiple houses in the US. We’ll be right here in Cali.”

  “Fuck you, Lauren!”

  “If your daughter is with me on weekends, you’ll make sure I get my transfers. Simple.” That makes me cringe. “Two can play at this game. If my father thinks he can hang me out to dry, he has another thing coming… even from the grave. And so do you, Holt. I’ll raise hell until I get what I want.”

  “You’ll never win, Lauren.” It’s more of a prayer than a statement.

  She smirks. “Stick to your day job, rocker boy. This is California, the state where a name and a sad story still counts. No doubt there’s a judge out there willing to take pity on a poor orphan who’s lost it all… and wants to reconnect with her sweet child. I’ve been told she’s the most perfect little thing on this planet.”

  I clench my fist. “The judge will see right through you.”

  I don’t want to drag my daughter through the courts and I won’t allow Lauren to use Naomi. Splitting time between two houses and confusing the fuck out of her will harm her. Lauren doesn’t want her, let alone love her. Having to worry if all her needs are met or if Lauren will stick her in a room and forget about her isn’t something I look forward to. And I certainly don’t want Naomi anywhere near Legion. The guy has questionable friendships.

  “Everyone is a sucker for a repenting soul. It’s a Hollywood classic. Maybe it’s time for me to put my acting degree to good use.” She places her hand against her forehead and arches her back adopting a dramatic pose. “God, please forgive me. My emotional state robbed me of precious years with my daughter—crazy hormones and all. It’s time to change that. I can’t wait to play Mommy Dearest.” Her evil laugh rings around me.

  “Over my dead body.” My jaw is clenched so tight, I’m surprised the words pass my lips.

  She shrugs. “Your choice. I hope you have good insurance. Funeral costs are so high these days.”

  Her words are like a vice around my neck, choking me to death. I’m so fucking furious, I can only growl like a dog with rabies.

  “See you in court, rocker boy!”

  CHAPTER 33

  Everly

  A month later

  After another long grueling day, I crawl up to my apartment. It was Flashback Friday so you know it was crazy. It’s funny in many ways because the hours haven’t changed. My ability to cope with things has. I no longer have anything to look forward to. I had that when Holt and I were seeing each other. It’s no longer the case.

  We haven’t talked to each other for a month. The last time we spoke, he announced Naomi’s mother was in town and he had a few personal things to take care of. He didn’t go into details and I didn’t ask. Now, I wish I had.

  I enter my apartment, drop my keys on the console table near the door and lean against it.

  I let out a loud sigh.

  It’s so quiet.

  I miss Holt so much. I miss what we shared. Granted, we’d only been seeing each other for six weeks, but it was enough to give me hope.

  Of course, the lonely nights are the worst. True, he never spent the night at my place and I never slept over at his, but our passionate time together was enough to sustain me.

  I’ve lost that.

  And I’ve lost the most amazing lover a girl could ask for.

  Abstaining from sex for two and a half years was easy. After all, I only had Dalton as my gauge. I didn’t know better. I do now. There’s something so sexy about the way Holt used to fuck me so hard I could barely walk straight the next day. Knowing he wanted me so much he couldn’t contain himself, was a big turn on.

  I crave him.

  Fuck.

  Enough.

  Internally, I scold myself over the sadness engulfing me, but that does little to ease my mini breakdown. Blinking back against the tears, I squeeze my eyes shut in my effort to get the tall gorgeous rocker out of my head. Out of my system.

  Longing weighs in my heart heavy.

  How am I supposed to forget him?

  My Misty Sky ringtone interrupts my wallowing.

  Crap.

 
I keep telling myself that I have to change the damn ringtone because it reminds me too much of him, but I keep procrastinating.

  I grab my phone from my pocket and grumble.

  “Stupid scammer. I don’t know anyone living in Seychelles.”

  I hang up.

  My phone rings again.

  Aggravated, I bring it to eye level ready to hang up on the idiot, just to realize it’s my cousin.

  I pick-up.

  “Hey, Ainsley, sorry I haven’t––”

  “I’m parked at the back of your building. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “Wait! Why––”

  It’s too late. She hung up.

  A few minutes later, there’s a knock at my door.

  I swing it open and my cousin is standing there all decked out in a stunning cobalt blue dress.

  “Evening, Everly.” Without preamble she steps into my apartment.

  Why is she in such a chipper mood?

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “You’re asking the wrong question,” she says turning to face me.

  “Okay, what am I missing?” I ask carefully.

  “Get dressed! It’s Friday night and we’re going out! Dinner first and then we’re going to party!”

  Is she high?

  “No, we’re not. I’m… I’m busy tonight.”

  She narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “Really?” she scours my spotless apartment.

  Yeah, I’ve scrubbed and polished every surface. I’ve cleaned and buffed. I’ve swept behind every piece of furniture. I’ve purged, donated and trashed. I’ve labeled every single spice and baking ingredient. My freezer received the same treatment. I even color-coded my wardrobe. Ditto for my underwear drawer and my towels. Did you know it’s much easier to find sheets when you put the set in one pillowcase? I’m the poster child of organized living. In other words, I’m utterly miserable.

  “Doing what? Cleaning?” she asks amused.

  My plans for tonight?

  The same ones I’ve had for the past month––licking my wounds and mending my broken heart.

  “I’m still recovering from last week. Do you know how many donuts we stuffed and glazed leading to Thanksgiving? Black Friday was a zoo. You’d think we were having a two-for-one sale.”