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“Who the fuck do you think you are, questioning me, Griffin? I’m the only reason you’re even afforded the ability to write for such a prestigious magazine! Everything you have is because of me, Griffin! Everything! Don’t you fucking forget it. When I say something, I expect you to comply, or I will destroy you. Do you understand?” His breath is hot on my face, reeking of stalecoffee and cigars, churning the bile around in my stomach. I want to push. I want to argue. I want to dig deeper and find out more about Aspen Ridge, and the fact that my father is clearly keeping something from me only fuels that need. But I know I won’t get anywhere by arguing. I’ve been playing this game my entire life, and I know when to shut my mouth. This is one of those times.

“I understand, Dad. I apologize.”

He gives me one last shake before releasing his hold on me, causing me to stagger. He reads my compliance—something I’ve perfected—and takes his seat behind his desk, straightening his jacket and returning to his work. I leave his office angry but more convinced than ever that I need to find out exactly what’s hiding in Aspen Ridge.

My father has been checking in with me more often since that conversation to make sure I’m abiding by his new rule. What he doesn’t realize is that he’s only fueling me, piquing my interest further.

I’ve spent the last few months looking into the town of Aspen Ridge and the distillery, and having Trey reschedule meeting after meeting to hold them off. My dad would find out if I met with them, and I can’t jeopardize my position at his company. I love my job too much, and it’s all I have. It’s the only happiness in my life. But I need to find out more.

What started as innocent digging and research quickly spiraled into something so much more. From the moment I found Carter Hayes’ picture on the distillery website, I felt drawn to him, and I couldn’t have stayed away if I tried. While scrolling, my heart stopped as I settled on his photograph and spent too long staring. I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before, but there was something just behind his eyes that spoketo me, that called to me. There’s a depth there that he’s hiding, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. I felt a connection to him just from his photo. Touching him last night? Jesus Christ. There’s something there that I can’t explain or get my head around, but I’m far from being done with Carter Hayes.

My dad would see through on his threats to destroy me if he found out I was digging further into the town and family he seems to despise so strongly, and after the feelings Carter brought out in me thanks to last night’s unexpected orgasms, I really want to avoid the fucker.

The Hayes family owns and operates the distillery, and it seems to be an institution in town. After my digging spiraled to focus more on just Carter, I was pleasantly surprised to discover his extracurricular activities included frequenting a sex club, something he doesn’t seem to be trying to hide.

Discovering this little tidbit, I had to see it for myself. I know I should listen to my father and stay away. I should be working harder for him to finally be proud of me and see that I am competent and can handle running the conglomerate that he’s built once he’s ready to retire. Too bad for both of us, when I set my heart on something, I have to see it through. And right now? That’s learning more about Carter Hayes.

It’s tempting, though, to just drop this hunt I’ve suddenly become obsessed with, to finally be in his good graces. If he weren’t such an evil prick. My dad is your typical egotistical asshole who doesn’t realize what a loud-mouthed douche canoe he actually is. Everything that comes from his mouth drips with condescendence, misplaced arrogance, and garbled bullshit that I try hard to tune out. If he didn’t hold my life in the palm of his hand, I’d walk away and never talk to him again. But as my life sits currently, he’s right, I wouldn’t have anything if I didn’t have the job that I love so much. The career that I verymuch worked for, but is underneath him, regardless. He owns me, and he knows it.

Being able to travel through these gorgeous states and parts of Canada, discovering new places, tiny towns, must-eat diners, and the best hikes has been such a privilege. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to travel and write about my experiences to share with the rest of the world. I’ve convinced my dad to expand from just the Pacific Northwest—but he’s only on board if I continue to be his yes-man. Behaving. Complying. Being the perfect son, which couldn’t be further from reality.

The only good thing my dad has done that I agree with is to make me genuinely work my way up, rather than just giving me a top position within the magazine because I’m his son. He did it to purposefully demean me, but I was grateful for it. I studied hard at one of the best journalism programs in the country, and have worked damn hard to perfect my craft. Investigative journalism isn’t quite what I thought I would be doing, but man, if I’m not intrigued by this quaint town and the family that seems to be at its helm. Daddy dearest isn’t exactly forthcoming with the information on why he wants me to drop it. Just expects his trained lap dog to comply, dangling a treat he knows I want in front of my snout. My career.

Swiping up on the green connect button, I answer his call to get it over with.

“Hi, Dad,” I greet, keeping my voice monotone, neither overly friendly nor curt, remaining professional at all times so that I don’t fuel the fire of his disappointment.

“Son.”

His voice grates over me, a headache starting at the base of my skull. I imagine most fathers’ voices bring memories of encouragement and comfort, but not mine.

“Remember, Griffin, I can take all of this away.”

“Don’t forget who made you, Griffin. And who can fucking end you.”

“You’re a goddamn embarrassment, Griffin. Fall in line or you’re done.”

“Are you even listening? Fuck, Griffin. Can you attempt to do the bare minimum?”

My dad’s voice barks through the speaker, bringing me back to the present. Every time I hear the name Griffin, I can’t control my visceral reaction. I was named after him, a gift my mother bestowed upon me, as if giving me his last name wasn’t enough of a reminder of who I belonged to.

“Sorry, I was answering an email,” I lie.

“When I call, you give me your full attention, do you understand? And you sure as shit don’t ignore my phone calls.”

I’m twenty-nine years old and still being spoken to like a misbehaving child. If I weren’t wound up so tightly in a spool that I don’t know how to unravel myself from, I wouldn’t take the abuse. But he’s my dad, I love my job, and I have no idea how to walk away from this life when I have nothing else to go to. If I ever left, he’d make damn sure I was never published by anyone but him. A threat he’s made before. He’d essentially ruin any chance I’d have of ever writing again, and writing is my life. It’s all I have.

“Sorry, Dad. What can I help you with today?”

He huffs hard, not bothering to pull the phone away, and I crack my neck from side to side to ease some of the tension.

“Give me an update on the new locations you’ve found. It’s been weeks. A monkey could have done faster work than you, Griffin. I should have let Dion handle this, but I thought my son could be more competent than he apparently is. You hadbetter give me something good and fast. I’m getting tired of waiting. We need things to write about, Griffin, and we can’t do that if you don’t do your goddamn research and find them!”

Fuck.

“Sorry to be a constant source of disappointment for you, Dad. I’m working on it.”

“And? What does that even mean? Jesus, Griffin. Can’t you do anything right? I’m going to bring Dion in on this, it’s clearly too much for you to fucking handle. You really are more incompetent than I thought. Are you staying the fuck away from Aspen Ridge?”