Denying Dylan | ✔️

(23) "You're not well."

I sat in the chair in front of Kevin's big snobnoxious desk and waited, patiently, for him to arrive home. Thanks to Lucinda and a bit of back and forth communication, I found out when he'd be in and when he'd be leaving again. Not that I'd asked about when he'd be leaving again, but Lucinda felt the need to fill me in once she got going.

"I think I should just stand here," Brecken said, standing beside the chair with his hands clasped like he was a personal body guard. I'd think that he'd dressed for the part in a leather jacket and black jeans, but that was just his usual attire. "Should I have holstered a gun or something. Glasses? You didn't tell me we were meant to dress up."

"Yeah it's a no on the gun, Breck," I said, clutching the folder of documents  Truth be told, I might be tempted to use it on Kevin if there was one present. "And you're not standing there while this happens. I told you that you'll hide in my old bedroom across the hall and come out if something goes wrong."

"Your costume is hot," he ignored me and I peered up to find him watching me with a devious grin. "You're like a sexy secretary. Or a teacher. We could have a bit of fun on daddy's desk."

"You're not well."

"Don't pretend you wouldn't be into that. You dress up all the time. You're a role play girl for sure."

"You need to quit. I almost kissed you at Christmas time and your loyalty peeped through. You'd never bend me over this desk and I'd die before it came close to that. So shut up for once, child."

He started laughing, hard. "True. Whe—"

I raised a hand to cut off his sentence when I heard the front door opening and closing. It was faint but it was enough to know that we weren't alone.

"Go!" I whispered with urgency. "Hide."

Brecken disappeared but I knew he was close and that did offer a sense of comfort. Especially when my father walked into the room in a three thousand dollar suit and a strong case of arrogance cradling his footsteps. He paused for a moment when he saw me and then his disinterest snapped into place.

"What are you doing here?" He scowled and walked further in, taking a seat at his chair, his gaze falling to the folder in my grasp for a brief moment. "You have three seconds to explain and then I'm ringing the police and having you arrested for theft and violation of a court ordered permit. Unless you brought the urn back."

"I didn't. I let mom rest on the beach in California. Like she would have wanted."

He scoffed. "So you're here because? I thought that I'd seen the last of you."

Kevin Blake is one of those men that can walk into a room and seize the attention of every single person. He's important. He's known. He's respected. He has an entire team of staff that fall at his feet. Associates that worship his words and scramble at the click of his fingers.

But all I saw was a coward.

"You're just a weak man," I said, staring at him, finding him smaller and smaller by the second. "You're weak. It's never been about me. It's been about you and your insecurities and your inability to live with the fact, that you weren't good enough for someone. And I'm not going to burden that. I'm not going to concern myself with whether or not I'm good enough for you. I'm good enough for me. You can be miserable alone."