Page 29 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

“How does he have you this wound up? I thought you guys were, you know, working out all that extra friction,” Halle asks between gulps of her drink.

“Maybe you need to try working it out a bit more.” Jasper prods me but I ignore both of them.

The truth is that I don’t even know how he gets under my skin so thoroughly.

Before Friday, we could hang out fine and I didn’t feel the urge to punch him in his face while also wanting to drown in his kiss.

The way he touches me, the feel of his fingers in my curls…

ever since Friday he has me feeling completely out of control, and for whatever reason, I can’t stand it.

It makes me hate him. Hate his scent, hate his gorgeous eyes, hate his stupid, stupid smile. Ugh. I loathe him.

And I also might not hate him at all.

It has me wanting to rebel against everything my body is demanding. And boy, is she demanding to take Caleb back to his place and jump him.

It was just the hormones.

Obviously.

“There’s my favorite grumpy pants.”

“Rosie. Lovely to see you.” Jessie’s bland, borderline annoyed tone sounds anything but overjoyed to see me.

“Is that any way to greet your favorite editor?” I place my laptop and books down on a table and stride up to the counter, leaning a hip against it as I grab a menu to look over.

“You’re my only editor.” He sighs, but before he can say anything else, Casey is jogging down the stairs.

“Rosie! What are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you! Why has it been so long? Why have you been leaving me on read?” She wraps me up in an air-reducing hug before pulling back, her grip firm on my shoulders.

“Okay, woah.” I pat her hands before disentangling my body from hers. “I came to work through some edits with Jessie, and also escape the office, and have the best brew in town.” I gesture toward Jessie.

“Black?” he asks, whipping a towel over his shoulder.

“Always.” I sigh contently, in preparation for the caffeine juice of the gods to inject into my body and make me come alive again.

“And to answer your other questions, I’ve just been really busy.

I want this promotion so bad. I’ve been working with another author too.

Her book is amazing, and I think it’s really going to hit the charts.

Between that and Jessie’s, I know the job is mine, I just don’t want to drop the ball and let anything get in the way.

” She nods in understanding and we take a seat together at the table I’ve claimed as my own.

“Plus, you left me and moved in with your lumberjack lover, so don’t blame me for not being around,” I joke playfully, but I can see the accusation hit across her face and I have instant regret.

“I would offer to move back in, but I… really don’t want to. I love being with Jay.” She smiles, nervously playing with her hands in her lap. I ignore the almost-adorable blush that hits Jessie’s cheeks at hearing Casey’s nickname for him, and I reach across and rest a hand on Casey’s arm.

“Awh, Case, that was selfish and so non–people pleaser of you. I’m so proud.” She shakes me off, rolling her eyes at me.

“Ha-ha.”

“I wouldn’t let you leave, anyway, sunshine.” Jessie gives her a gentle kiss on the head as he places my coffee in front of me.

“Please leave the PDA at home, I’d like to finish my coffee and not barf.”

“You were not hugged enough as a child, Garcia.”

“I wasn’t hugged, period, caveman.” I smirk at him, knowing I just made him uncomfortable, and Casey smacks my arm, shaking her head at Jessie, telling him to ignore me.

“How’s Addy, I haven’t been very good at catching up with her either.”

“Noah’s back for a couple of weeks before he heads back to Chicago again. I assume they are spending a lot of time ‘catching up.’” I’d seen Noah last week at Pucks with the guys, which makes sense why she hasn’t followed up on her request for coffee.

“We sho—” The sound of my phone buzzing interrupts us and I see my father’s name pop up on my screen.

“Oh, you get that, I need to finish helping Jay with the stock anyway.” She stands to leave the table, and I really wish she wasn’t so goddamn accommodating because I’ve been avoiding this call, and I don’t want an excuse to answer it.

“Don’t you have a studio to run, why are you working for him?”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Jessie levels Casey with a begrudging scold that is full of love.

“He has an author signing this week and he doesn’t know how to make things pretty.” She chuckles, knowing Jessie heard the insult, but he just smirks at her, with literal heart eyes as he watches her head back up the stairs.

“Who knew you were such a sap,” I say in Jessie’s direction and he just shakes his head at me, finishing off a coffee order.

“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll come over.” He gestures to my phone, which is now ringing again . I sigh dramatically, once again reevaluating all my life choices before answering the phone.

“ Hola, Padré .”

“Rosita, finally, you grace us with your voice. Why did it take you so long to answer.” Maybe because I have a life, one I am desperately trying to forget that you’re a part of. Of course I don’t say that.

“I’ve just been swamped with work. About to head into a meeting. What do you need?” I force through gritted teeth, trying my best not to draw attention to me.

“The Castillos are having an opening night for one of their new hotels on Saturday. I will have a car sent to your apartment. It’s black tie, dress appropriately,” he says as though the fact he had to call and tell me is quite an inconvenience, rather than asking me, or even providing more notice.

No, of course not. But this is what it’s been like my whole life.

Just one demand after the other. Expectations upon expectations.

And I’m supposed to be the dutiful daughter that is gentle, agreeable, and above all else, seen and not heard.

“I can’t. I have the charity gala for my job that night. I am up for a promotion and it is a part of their rebrand, I can’t miss that.” I keep my voice steady, calm, and appeasing, both for the sake of the people in this café and my own; I don’t want to incite war.

“Rosita, this is important for your future.” As a trophy rather than a human . “If you cannot skip this gala, you can do both.” I choke on my words, standing from the table and exiting the café, needing to pace, or get air, or something. Is he serious?

“ Padré , I cannot do both. I need to be there for the whole gala.”

“I have given you everything you’ve ever asked for, Rosita.

The apartment you live in and the clothes on your back.

I never ask you for anything.” It is astounding that lies spill from his mouth like air rather than the poison that they are.

“You will do this, or you’ll realize just how much freedom you really have with your little job. ”

“Wha—”

“The car will arrive at six. Be on time, and be presentable.” He disconnects the call and I’m left standing outside Jessie’s café, staring at my phone.

I can’t hear anything over the sound of blood rushing through my head, the feel of my heart beating so hard and fast in my chest it feels like it’s going to fall out.

Every time I feel like I have some semblance of control in my life, it is yanked out from under me, showing me how little this life is mine.

It’s a humbling experience, like existing on the outside of my body looking in.

The threat continues to ring in my ear. I thought I had created a life separate from my father, but really, how separate am I?

Is there truly nowhere I could go that he can’t reach me?

I was under the impression I obtained my job without the use of my last name… but am I wrong?

I don’t even need to think twice, I know exactly what his threat means.

A part of me so desperately wants to flip him off, tell him to choke on bleach while I continue to ignore his instructions, but the real me knows it isn’t worth the ruin of the life I’ve built, even if it’s temporary and not really mine at all.

“You good, Garcia?” Jessie’s voice pulls me from my mental spiral. I’m quick to pull on a fake smile, his concern easing slightly as he stands in the doorway of the café.

“Yeah, nothing I can’t handle.” I pull firmly on my perfected mask of cool indifference, shoving my cell back into my pocket and heading back inside.

“Let’s get through some of these edits. Let’s talk about Holly.

” I pat his chest on the way past, knowing that his book is partly inspired by his own life, and this Holly I am almost certain is derived from his ex, Jenny.

Though he denies it, the resounding sigh and tense expression of his face when I suggest it tells me I’m right.

“Do we have to?”

“Only if you want your baby to shine.” After that, he follows and slumps into the chair opposite me.

“Fine.”