Page 48 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Miles

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“This is Maggie Watson’s phone. How can I help you?” If I had any kind of forethought, I would’ve checked the display before answering.

“Miles, I presume? I’d like to speak to Maggie.”

I twist the phone to show Maggie the name on the screen before putting it on speaker. Her posture goes rigid when she sees “Dad” on the display. There’s no mistaking the fear and trepidation in her eyes, so I respond for her, “I think th at ship has sailed.”

“Fine. You relay this message to my daughter. I will not pay for her mistakes. She chose to send illicit photographs to a stranger on the internet and she can live with the consequences of her actions. Furthermore, I refuse to acknowledge her as my daughter and heir from this moment on. It’s a good thing she chose not to use her own name when writing that filth — I will not have her sullying the Watson name.

Do you think you can adequately relay that message? ”

Tears flow freely down her cheeks as each harsh word hits its mark, and I see red.

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you. What kind of man refuses to take up for his daughter when she’s being blackmailed?

You should be damn proud to have such a talented, beautiful, incredibly kind daughter.

You should be telling the whole world what an amazing woman you raised — but you can’t, can you?

Instead, you’ve spent your entire adult life making her feel unwanted.

I won’t make that same mistake. Kindly fuck off. ”

I quickly end the call and toss the phone onto the coffee table before pulling Maggie into my arms. “I’m sorry, baby. You deserve so much better than that sorry excuse for a father.”

“I’m okay,” she murmurs. “It’s not about dad — I expected as much from him — but what are we going to do about Matty?”

I kiss her temple, letting my lips linger on her skin for a beat longer than necessary. “Let me handle it, Mags. He’s my brother. You have enough on your plate.”

I can tell she wants to argue, but she’s exhausted and who could blame her? It’s been one thing after another for months and she’s handled it all with grace. I’m so fucking gone for her.

Mag s

After listening to no less than thirty voicemails from different publications wanting to interview me, I finally settled on LustLit — a magazine aimed at uplifting and amplifying the voices of romance readers and authors.

Their mission statement focuses on diversity and female empowerment through romantic literature written by women and for women.

It just so happens that they were the only magazine that wasn’t focused on my last name.

The others only cared about what my proximity to Arthur Watson could do for their reputation.

Jack shit, if his lack of a reaction to the bombshell revelation is anything to go by.

He’d likely change my last name entirely if he could manage it.

Agreeing to an exclusive interview with an up-and-coming journalist named Kamilla was the easy part. She agreed to join me at Rosie’s for a casual brunch meeting, and my nosey ass friends insisted on accompanying me. They’re parked a few booths down for what they’re calling moral support.

I recognize the woman as soon as she walks into the diner looking as out of place as you’d expect from a New Yorker landing in rural Kentucky.

She’s wearing what could only be described as a power suit in a muted lavender shade with a gorgeous corseted top under the jacket.

Her dark hair is slicked back in into a fancy knot at her nape, and her striking green eyes sparkle like emeralds against her bronze skin.

I wave her over and she greets me with a wide smile that instantly sets me at ease.

She stands across from me near the booth, offering me a firm handshake. “You must be Maggie. I’m Kamilla, but you can call me Kam. It’s so good to meet you. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve read your book.”

“Thank you. You’re so sweet. Join me.”

Rosie sidles up to the table just as Kam gets comfortable. “You must be new in town. I’m Rosie.”

“How did you guess?” Kam laughs and offers Rosie her hand in greeting. “I’m a journalist based out of New York. I’m only here for the day to interview Miss Watson.”

“Nice to meet you. Our Maggie here is the talk of the town. Can I get you lovely ladies anything to drink?” she asks.

I give Rosie an appreciative smile. “I’ll have my usual, Ro. Kam?”

“Just water for me. With lemon, if you have it.”

“Coming right up.”

“Ok, I guess we can get started.” Kam taps away at her phone, pulling up the voice recorder app. “I’m Kamilla Palmer and I’m here with Maggie Watson, also known as M.W. Hartley. Miss Watson, if you wouldn’t mind giving your verbal consent to being recorded.”

“Absolutely. I’m fine with that.”

“Thank you.”

The interview starts slow, but eventually it’s more like a conversation between friends than a stuffy one on one.

I find myself laughing and bantering back and forth like we’ve known each other for years.

There’s a camaraderie you can only find with a fellow writer, and it turns out, Kam is working on her first romance novel, too.

“It was so good to meet you, Mags. You know they say never meet your idols, but in your case it’s complete bullshit. You’re a doll.”

I snort out a laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.

You’ve only just met me. Now that we’re friends, I’m going to be insufferable.

Just ask my bestie over there.” I point towards the booth in the corner where Paige is flirting with Cade, and Miles looks on with something like pride in his expression.

As though she senses our eyes on her, Paige glances over and waves.

“Speaking of which, you should totally join the boo k club group chat.”

“I’d love that! I don’t have a lot of reader friends who aren’t colleagues.”

I pull out my phone and add her to the smaller group with just me, Paige, and Ivy to start. The local book club might be too overwhelming. “Well, now you do.”

“Thanks so much. It really was great talking to you. I’ll keep you updated on the article.

” She slings her purse over her shoulder, hesitating briefly at the side of the table.

“Not to be that person, but would you mind signing my book?” She rummages through her tote, cursing when she comes up empty. “Shit. I left it in the rental.”

“No problem. I’ll walk you out.”

After leaving a stack of cash on the table, Kam heads towards the exit. On the way out of the diner, I text everyone, letting them know I’ll be right back, then follow Kam around the corner. “I parked in the lot down the street. I’m not great at parallel parking,” she says, wincing slightly.

“Well, you’re a step ahead of me. I’m shit at driving in general. Toronto spoiled me with their public transportation.”

“I feel the same way about New York,” she says with a far off smile. We come to a stop next to a black BMW, the luxury vehicle sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the pickup trucks and minivans. “This is me.”

I sign her book with a personalized note, thank her for the interview, and wish her safe travels back to New York, promising to visit in the near future. With a final wave, she pulls out of the parking lot, the sound of her car fading as she disappears around the corner.

On my way back to the diner, I decide to take a shortcut through a familiar alleyway, losing myself in memories of the flower festival when someone grabs me from behind.

His arm bands around my shoulders and neck, but I bring my h ands up and wedge them between us, giving me enough breathing room to keep my wits about me.

“Maggie the heiress. Guess daddy didn’t really give a fuck what his whore of a daughter was doing, huh?” Matty’s breath fans over my cheek as he buries his face in my hair and inhales. “You smell delicious. Bet you taste delicious too.”

“Fuck you,” I spit. My pulse is erratic and my senses are on high alert as I run through everything Miles taught me in our self-defense lessons.

“That can be arranged. How about we make a deal? You get on your knees all pretty for me, just like you do for my brother, and I’ll make sure those photos never see the light of day.”

Using every ounce of strength I can muster, I bite down on his arm. He releases me on instinct and I use the momentum to duck out of his hold and slam my knee into his groin. He releases a pained grunt, doubling over on the cobblestone. My chest heaves as I glare down at the man writhing in agony.

“Look at you, on your knees, all pretty for me,” I sneer seconds before my foot meets his jaw with a loud crack.

Someone must’ve heard the commotion because several people come rushing around the corner in tandem.

Paige has her phone to her ear, speaking to the 9-1-1 operator as Cade advances and pushes me behind him.

Matty tries to make a break for it, but he’s boxed in by a furious Miles at the other end of the alley.

We lock eyes, and an overwhelming wave of relief washes over me.

Cade lunges forward, grabbing Matty’s forearms and pinning him against the brick wall.

With his brother secure, Miles rushes towards me and cradles my face in his palms, his eyes frantic as he scans me for any sign of injury.

Finding none, he pulls me into his embrace.

“That’s my fucking girl.” All of my weight collapses into him as I fight to stay upright.

Sensing my distress, Miles scoop s me into his arms, his steady heartbeat soothing me as he carries me into the diner.

The world blurs into a chaotic mess of sights and sounds as the adrenaline crash hits with the force of a mack truck, leaving me breathless and disoriented.

A while later, an officer takes our statements and they haul Matty away in handcuffs.

They’ve been made aware of the blackmail and subsequent threats, and I will be formally pressing charges for all of it, including the assault.

I’m leaving the diner relatively unscathed, while Matty is looking a little worse for the wear. He deserves everything he got and more.

When we arrive back at Miles’ house, Lucy is there waiting for us with red-rimmed eyes and an apologetic expression.

Miles sets me down in the entry, and I rush over to her.

She grasps one of my hands in hers and cups my cheek with the other.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. I never imagined he’d do something like that. ”

“It’s ok.It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize for him.”

She shakes her head. “I do. He’s my son. I thought I raised him to be a good man.”

“You did, Lucy, but he’s grown now, and he made his own choices. Please don’t take this on yourself.”

“You are too good for this world, Maggie.” Glancing over my shoulder, she adds, “I hope you know how lucky you are, Miles.”

“I do,” he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my head. “I really, really do.”