Page 12 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

Standing in front of a judge with Maura only six feet away was like having each one of my teeth pulled out with rusty pliers.

Being in her presence was strenuous enough, but standing there having to bite my tongue to avoid a night in a jail cell while she cried into a handkerchief was downright maddening.

She was always going to play the victim.

She did it in our marriage.

She did it throughout our divorce.

Why was this going to be any different?

After I spoke my part, explaining that fifty-fifty custody was best for Penelope, Maura turned on the waterworks and, through choked sobs, told the judge that Penelope belonged with her and solely her.

She begged the judge to do the right thing and allow her to take our daughter with her to New Zealand, far away from the man she ‘barely knew as her father’.

My own lawyer, Antonio, acted like a human blockade between me and my ex-wife, meaning I didn’t have to look directly at her while trying to deafen out her fake whimpers.

Instead, I focused on the desk in front of me, counting each groove indented into the wood. Whatever it took not to dwell on the tightening grip seizing around my throat.

Forty-five.

Forty-six.

Forty-seven.

Forty-eight.

“What are the reasons in which you believe the child would be better without her biological father in her life?” the judge asked. “From what I have read, the child does not seem to be at any risk in her father’s presence.”

“His absence during the first two years of her life, for a start,” Nathan replied. “The lack of his input during her impressionable years and the lack of child support he provided during that time…”

“Your honor,” Antonio interjected, “my client was not present during those years because Miss Willows sought to keep their child’s very existence a secret from Mr. Dade. How was he supposed to provide for or support a child he didn’t know about?”

The judge hummed, flipping over a piece of paper.

I cracked my neck from side to side, my ring rubbing against my finger’s skin as I started to twist the metal.

“Miss Willows has evidence that what Mr. Dade’s lawyer is saying is untrue,” Nathan said. “He knew from the very beginning that Miss Willows was pregnant with his child. In fact, he urged her to terminate the pregnancy.”

“What evidence?” Antonio countered. “You’ve submitted nothing to the court.”

Nathan continued to address the judge. “The evidence we can provide not only shows that Mr. Dade knew about his unwanted daughter, but he only started to become involved in her life to lower his alimony payments to my client.”

“None of this evidence has been submitted to the court,” the judge said.

Nathan nodded. “We can get you that evidence in the next two weeks, if you allow us the time.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” I snapped. “ Espèce de menteuse .”

“Frederic, stop,” Antonio whispered.

“No,” I seethed. “She is lying. She has no proof. I’m not going to sit here twiddling my fucking thumbs and let her do this to Penelope.”

“Mr. Dade, this is your first and only warning,” the judge said calmly. “Given this so-called evidence, I will adjourn today and give both parties time to resubmit all necessary paperwork. We will re-adjourn on July 20 th .”

The echo of his gavel was a gunshot through my chest.

Another four weeks of feeling like I was losing my daughter in slow motion.

Outside the courthouse, the urge to break something was growing stronger by the second.

Grabbing my phone, my thumbs nearly smashed the screen as I sent an urgent message to Stefan Ryans.

Ryans was a bottom-feeder, someone I associated with out of necessity rather than desire, but given his ability to hack into most computer systems, he was a necessary evil.

Especially with the latest task of getting his hands on Maura’s so-called evidence, and to tap into all of Nathan Hawthorne’s devices.

Whatever the two of them were playing at, whatever shit they were concocting together, I needed to know.

I refused to be played like a damn fool.

Just like a bad smell, Maura appeared in front of me with her make-up perfectly back in place and not a single tear in sight.

“That was fun,” she said dully. “You realize I had to cancel on three clients to fly back for this. Not exactly the best first impression, thankfully they were willing to reschedule...”

My back teeth met violently.

“My flight back to New Zealand isn’t until tomorrow night. Kevin is using the private plane for a business trip to Dubai, leaving me stuck here until then.” She picked a strand of hair from her blouse. “I want to take Penny for the night.”

“Good luck with that,” I spat. “After that shit you just pulled in there, you aren’t laying a single fingernail on her unless a judge says so.”

I wanted my words to hurt her. I wanted her to feel the cold dread of uncertainty that I felt every second of every day. I wanted her to be as scared as I was about losing the only good thing in my whole fucking life.

Instead, she smirked. “Tsk, tsk, Frederic. Are you withholding my child from me?”

People called me cold. They call me the Ice Man, and maybe that was true. But I was nothing compared to the Ice Queen I stupidly married.

I was blindsided by what I thought was love once. Never again would I be so foolish.

“Interesting.” Maura grabbed her phone. “If that’s the case, I’ll call Nathan and let him know. I wonder how the judge will rule when he finds out that you’re using her like a weapon.”

“There isn’t a word in the dictionary that describes how much I hate you.”

“You loved me once.”

“My one and only regret in life,” I stated. “You can take Penelope for the night, but if you try to take her to New Zealand with you tomorrow…”

“You’ll ring the police, blah, blah, blah. We’ve been over this.” She dragged a manicured nail across her chest. “Scout’s honor, I’ll bring her straight back tomorrow. Send me your address and I will swing by.”

I shook my head. “Hank will drive her to wherever you are staying. He will also pick her up first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Still a control freak, huh?”

My dentist was going to have a field day with the way my teeth crunched together.

She relented. “Fine, whatever. Have him drop her off no later than four.”

I drove back to the house in total silence, ignoring the phone calls from Jaxon and my other brother, Elliott.

Physically and mentally, I didn’t have the energy to deal with either of them.

They didn’t have a clue about the court case, and I wanted to keep it that way. Jaxon gave up the right to know anything about my life when he walked away.

My relationship with my other brothers was near non-existent, especially with my youngest, Olivier. He was the light to my shadow, and because of that, I found it difficult being around him.

I kept him and Elliott at an arm’s length from the moment our maman passed.

My disastrous relationship with all my brothers was my own doing, my own burden to bear, but I didn’t allow myself the room to care or dwell on it for too long.

The fact that Elliott was calling me was a rarity, and maybe if I weren’t so exhausted, I might have let curiosity win.

Walking into the sanctuary of my own house, the sound of Penelope and Orla giggling was the cure for chasing away the heaviness that threatened to pull me under.

Normally, I wasn’t home this early, and although I knew it was in my best interest to go to my office and do some actual work today, I wanted to see my daughter.

I wanted to hang onto every second I had with her.

Like it’s the last time…

The two of them had claimed one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor and turned it into a make-shift art studio.

Inside Penelope sat between Orla’s legs, her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth as she copied Orla’s movements with a paintbrush on a large canvas.

Ordinarily, Orla was nice to look at — fine, she was beautiful in a way I didn’t think was possible. The freeness of her spirit, her ability to turn every situation into something good, and the way she made every room shine brighter just by being inside it, was overwhelming.

But right now, with paint splattered on her peach-tinged cheeks, wearing an obscenely bright pink dress that hugged her perfect hips, and in her element, she was divine .

I was frozen in place, hanging in the doorway like a stranger in my own home, unable to tear my eyes away from the woman I paid to care for my child.

It killed me to ruin their moment, but I knew Maura would raise hell if Penelope arrived one second after four o’clock.

I cleared my throat and the two of them turned in unison.

A chill caressed my spine as Orla’s lips curled into an earth-stilling smile. “Come see what Pen painted, it’s amazing.”

Penelope blushed with a timid smile. “Only because Orla helped.”

“No way, this was all you,” Orla assured her. “I’m telling you, Fred, you’re going to be seeing her art in the Louvre one day.”

I couldn’t help but notice the way she called me Fred. No one had ever called me that, not even as a boy.

Freddie, sure, but I hated that nickname. It reminded me too much of being a child, of a time when the sun still shone, and my home still contained the person who loved me no matter what.

Orla calling me Fred, however, didn’t irritate me as much as I thought it would.

In fact, I sort of liked it — not that she’d ever know.

“Let’s have a look.” I let out a low whistle as I inspected the canvas. “With talent like yours, mon petit soleil, you’ll be a famous artist in no time.”

Penelope’s smile grew tenfold. “You think?”

I nodded, stroking the top of her head. “I have more…good news.” Stay pleasant, for her sake. “Your maman is back from New Zealand for the night. She wants to spend some time with you.”

There was no shying away from Penelope’s smile dampening.

“That’s exciting,” Orla chimed in. “You and your mam are going to have so much fun. You can tell her all about your paintings, and how you are learning to swim.”

Penelope remained silent.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

Pain radiated through my sternum.

Orla placed a kiss atop Penelope’s head. “Your mam is going to be so happy to see you, she is going to love hearing all your stories. And then you can tell me and your daddy all about it tomorrow, yeah?”

Penelope slowly turned her head to me. “You’ll come and get me tomorrow, won’t you? I’m not going to live with Mama and Kevin in New Zealand?”

My knees nearly buckled as bitterness bloomed at the back of my throat. “No, mon petit soleil, you’re coming straight back here tomorrow morning.”

“Pinky promise?”

I offered her my little finger, my entire body trying not to shake as she wrapped her digit around mine. “Pinky promise.”

It was enough to soothe her into going to her room to pack an overnight bag with Orla’s help.

Even though I knew it was only for one night, I couldn’t bring myself to help them.

I fought the urge to vomit the little contents that were in my stomach, and the urge to break everything in sight as Penelope got into the back of the car and disappeared down the driveway.

Every part of me was vibrating, my very blood boiling beneath my skin as I stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the first whiskey glass I found.

When it shattered into a million pieces on the kitchen floor after hitting a wall, it did nothing to calm me down. So I reached for another.

Orla ran into the kitchen, her bare feet dangerously close to the shards.

“Stop,” I gritted out. “I gave you the rest of the day and night off. You can leave.”

She looked between me and the mess before vanishing back out the way she came in.

I was seconds away from hurling another glass across the kitchen when she reappeared, a pair of unlaced Doc Martens on her feet, and grabbed a brush from the pantry.

Slamming the glass on the counter, I ran a hand down my face. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

“Technically, you didn’t tell me. You said I can leave, making it more of a choice.” She swept up the glass. “Plus, for the safety of your glassware, I think I’d better stay.”

“I really don’t have the energy to deal with your constant sunshine and rainbows shit right now.”

“When do you ever?”

“Go away, Orla.”

She stopped brushing and rested her hand on her hip. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

My knuckles blanched as they curled into tight fists.

What’s wrong? How about my whole fucking life at this point?

“She’ll be back tomorrow,” Orla said calmly. “I know it’s not easy watching her leave, but she will be back in the morning.”

“She’ll be back, fine, but for how long? You don’t have the faintest idea what’s going on,” I spat. “My ex-snake-of-a-wife is trying to take her from me. She is fighting me for one hundred percent custody. She wants to take Penelope and fuck off to New Zealand.”

Orla’s brows creased. “She can’t do that.”

“She sure as shit is trying.”

“I mean, what judge is going to let her do that? Not when you are such an amazing dad,” she said. “Anyone can see how much she loves you. If the judge knew how much that would hurt Pen, they’d never allow it.”

“Unfortunately, Maura isn’t accustomed to being told no. She will do whatever it takes to get what she wants, no matter the consequences.”

I was well versed in handling Maura’s bullshit, usually by drinking scotch until I blacked out or hitting golf balls as hard as possible until my palms bled.

Whatever the method, I refused to allow anyone to see me like that, to see me at my weakest.

And that wasn’t about to change.

“Surely, I could testify on your behalf and tell the judge how much you need to be in Pen’s life,” Orla said quickly. “Surely, there is something we could do to stop your ex-wife?”

“The only thing I need you to do right now is leave,” I said firmly. “You have the night off, so go.”

“Fred…”

I silenced her with a glare. “Get out.”

She opened her mouth to speak again.

“Orla, I don’t want you here. Get out right now or you’re fired.”

Guilt coated my tongue, the words out before I could stop them.

She blinked twice, her jaw twitching as she dropped the broom and walked away.

The bang of her slamming the front door echoed through the house, leaving me completely alone with only the well-known monster of doubt whispering its evils in my ear.