Page 73 of Beauty & Chaos

Her face pales.

Damn.

I could’ve handled that better. The last thing I want to do is draw unwanted attention to my family situation, but what’s done is done.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. What happened?” Brook tilts her head the way she does when she is being compassionate.

Truthfully, I’ve not given this part of my plan much thought. I thought wining and dining her, and keeping her busy with orgasms would be enough.

Why I underestimated her, I don’t know.

I don’t have a family, and I don’t like the idea of lying to her.

“Both dead.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin.

It’s not a lie. My mother died. My father is dead to me.

“That’s tragic. Were you young?” she gasps quietly.

“Yes.” I nod. “What about you?”

Brooklyn blinks, aware I’ve deflected, but she presses her lips together, allowing it, thinking it’s a painful subject.

It is, and it isn’t.

I barely remember my mother, and my father tortured and abused me.

“Dad is a doctor, as you know, and Mom is a professor at Columbia. Which was annoying when I was a student there.” She smiles.

“You didn’t follow in their footsteps?” I ask, keeping the conversation on her.

“If Dad had his way, I’d be working in a hospital right now.” She snorts out a dry laugh.

“Nurse Brooklyn. Sexy.”

“DoctorMcKenna, thank you very much.”

“So, you don’t like blood or...”

“I wanted to be a journalist. I’ve always been interested in getting to the heart of a story. To the truth.”

Good. I’m counting on it.

But I don’t want her digging too far into me and my new life. I’m not the story here—Leo Taylor is.

“What about your kids? Are they going to be doctors or professors? Lawyers?” I ask, and when her gaze darts away, I’m curious.

“Who says I’m having children?” She asks, and something tightens in my chest. I have no idea what the hell it’s about, but I’m gripped by a sadness I sense from her.

Is there a possibility she won’t be a mother? A health reason? The belief she never will?

If her father is a doctor, surely he’s spoken to her about all the things she can do. Even if it is on her own.

A growl inside my chest threatens to come out. I clench my napkin, blocking out the direction of my thoughts...and her sleeping with another man. Becoming pregnant.

Fuck.

What is wrong with me?