Page 59 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

“Well. Guess we better go back out and stop hiding away like a couple of kids in trouble.” She tries to pull back on her mask, but there is a hint of something peeking through—that is gone too fast for me to see it.

She rolls her eyes before giving me one last playful slap and murmuring over her shoulder, “ La conche de tu madre ,” with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I wait a beat but then follow her back through the kitchen. Feeling oddly at peace in this house for the first time in an incredibly long time.

Thankfully the four of us have a good rest of the afternoon, and I’m thankful that Rosie is here to create some kind of buffer.

Dad doesn’t lay into me anywhere near as much as he normally would, and he also doesn’t bring up how broke we were when I was young—which he loves to do—and also doesn’t brag about how much he has had to work for everything he has—another thing he loves to do.

I do notice him continuously scrutinizing Rosie, and I don’t miss a few of the subtly probing questions he throws at her, trying to gauge who she is as a person, but I don’t doubt he’s already made up his mind.

Ol’ Bob Smith is the least open-minded and progressive person you’ll ever meet.

He also believes someone always has an ulterior motive, that no one is as kind as they “pretend” to be.

The woman he loved left him and his child to go marry a millionaire in Paris to live her lavish life with spawn she was actually proud of, so I think his trust issues are somewhat warranted.

It blows me away he trusted Viv enough to marry her, though I suspect her subdued nature and demure personality were enough for him to realize she wasn’t interested in ever leaving this city, let alone him.

“Suppose we should break out the sweets,” Viv says with a smile, clucking her tongue like the trained wife she is. Rosie leans back in her seat, utterly relaxed, drinking her beer, before giving me and Dad a pointed look.

“Yeah. How about you guys clean up and bring out dessert? Viv and I will organize another round of drinks.” She smirks playfully at me and then looks over at my dad, her smile a dare, and after watching how controlling her own father is around her, I feel a fierce amount of pride at her pushing.

My dad’s eyes only narrow slightly, though he doesn’t drop his smile, only looks at Viv—who looks like a chastised kid at the suggestion that the women hang out while the men do the cleaning—before he clears his throat.

Before he can say anything, I let my hand playfully squeeze Rosie’s thigh before I grab a few dishes.

“Sounds like a plan.” I pointedly look at Dad and he huffs a breath, grabbing the remaining dishes and following me inside.

“So, where’d you meet Rosie?” he questions, and my back instantly goes straight, an involuntary response to what I know is coming. Judgment.

“She’s one of Addison’s good friends. I think they grew up together.

We all kind of merged as one big group when Noah and Addy got together.

Lucas, Ethan, all of them too. You remember them?

” He mumbles an agreement, distracted as we scrape plates and stack the dishwasher.

I start on preparing the sink for dishes and he grabs a towel to dry as I go.

“And her family?” He’s been after this information all day. Rosie has been smart in how she’s phrased her answers, not hinting at who or what her family does. She’s made them sound downright normal.

“What about it?”

“Well, where do they come from? What do they do?” His voice is so condescending I force my breath to calm, refusing to make eye contact as he continues, “Have you researched her? How do you know her intentions are pure?” Okay, that stumps me.

His tone is deceptively neutral, and I drop the bowl I’m washing to look over at him, my brows drawn as I search his expression.

“What do you mean, intentions?” I push, feeling my skin heat with growing anger.

“Well, you’re not shy about your money, boy. You flaunt it like your shit don’t stink, you don’t think she’s noticed that? You don’t think there is a reason she’s attached herself to you?” His face is almost a snarl and I quickly mask my smile, turning my attention back to the sink.

Ha. He thinks Rosie’s after my money. It’s really hard not to laugh in his face.

“Maybe it’s me with the impure objectives.” I give him a look. “Ever thought of that?” My words convey my frustration, though in my head I’m just picturing the devious intentions I have for Rosie later tonight. He scoffs, grabbing the dish I hand him to dry.

“I’m just saying?—”

“No,” I cut him off, my voice harsh, “You have no idea what you’re saying.

Rosie isn’t after my money. She isn’t Mom, you’re reaching, but there is nothing there, Pops.

” I try to keep my voice even, but I know he can read the anger in my expression.

“In fact, I’m sure her spending account has more cash than each of my savings accounts and investments combined, so no.

I don’t think her intentions are wrong. I think that we’re friends and that she is here because she wanted to spend time with me this weekend, and because her family doesn’t celebrate.

” I feel my frustration building and suddenly all the words I’ve wanted to shout at him start to bubble to the surface.

I’m getting real tired of hearing his negative voice in the back of my head, telling me I’m worth nothing, that nothing is real, and that I can’t trust anyone, and for the first time, I’ve finally had it with letting him shit all over me.

“Why do you do this? Why do you always insist that people are malicious with cruel intentions?” I spin to face him properly, getting right up in his space.

Seeing him try to gain an inch by lifting his chin makes me sneer at him.

“You think that everyone is only after feeding their own belly instead of just living life with kindness.” And then it hits me like a freight train. “It’s you, you’re the reason.”

“What reason?” he spits, crossing his arms but not dropping his hateful glare.

“You are why every time I get close to someone or something, I second-guess myself. You are why I feel like I am underserving and never enough. It wasn’t Mom leaving me, it was you hurting me to save your own ego because you weren’t enough to make her stay.

” I see his nostrils flare and hate the sour mix of regret and joy that hits me knowing I’ve wounded him with my words.

“And despite knowing that that is what it is, all I hear is the reminder that it’s me.

That I’m the problem. Would it be so bad if I really liked Rosie?

If I wanted to be more than friends? But even if I did, I can’t have it, because your voice is in my head shouting that I can’t take it.

That it’s not for me.” I emphasize the anger in my words with a press of my fingers to the side of my head, and his eyes flinch with an emotion I’ve never seen on him before.

“That someone of her caliber could never be with someone like me, because I’m not enough.

Mom left because of me, right? It’s all my fault.

I wasn’t enough, I wasn’t worthy, I was the burden!

” I realize I’m shouting when Dad’s face is red with rage and there is a throat clearing behind him.

My head snaps to the side, finding Rosie and Viv standing at the back door entrance looking oddly concerned.

“I’m going to take a walk.” I huff, snatching the towel from my father’s hands to dry mine, throwing it to the ground, and heading out.

I only make it to the porch steps when the front door opens and closes again. I glance behind me, expecting to find Dad chasing after me, ready to have this out—it wouldn’t be the first time our fights ended in fists, after all. But to my surprise, it’s Rosie.

“I won’t be long, you should go back inside.” I don’t mean to sound so abrasive, but my rage still has me in a death grip.

“I’m good,” she says, walking in pace next to me. She doesn’t console me, or pat me on the back, like I’ve seen Viv do to Dad more times than I can count. When I look in her direction, she just looks ahead as we walk.

“Where are we going?” she asks casually, and I stop in my tracks. She stops, too, and looks at me, utterly calm, her hand raised to cover her eyes from the setting sun.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, my hands resting on my hips as I feel my skin start to cool, the rage ebbing slowly.

“That’s what I asked you.” She deadpans. “I mean, I’m down for a little walk, but if you keep going, I’m absolutely catching a cab, because fuck walking.” I narrow my eyes at her and she huffs impatiently. I turn and start walking, and she keeps pace again.

“You’re not going to say anything?” I ask with a quiet voice, suddenly nervous because, while my anger still has a firm grip on me, I’m also worried about how much she heard back there.

“What’s there to say?” I can see her shoulders shift next to me as she walks. Her tone is indifferent, acting like nothing happened.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, silent for a moment before continuing, curiosity getting the best of me, “Something about what you heard?”

“All I heard was that your dad is probably more of a dick than mine.” She mumbles. When I glance over at her, she squints in the sun, a little smile on her face that breaks through every bit of tension in my body. I laugh, and after a moment, she joins me, chuckling in that light way she does.

“Yeah, you might be right.” We walk in silence for a bit longer.

After a few minutes I stop and heave a breath and decide I really don’t want to go back. Not to the place that’s just a reminder of everything I hate. Instead, I’d rather just stay with Rosie and her easy playfulness. “Want to call a cab and go get a drink?”

“Oh thank fuck.” She sighs, bending over to rest her hands on her knees.

“I honestly thought you’d never ask.” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

“I’m ordering an Uber. I was not meant for exercise.

This body is far too precious.” I have to agree.

That body, Jesus. “But we’re not going anywhere fancy with me dressed like this.

” She points to her outfit and I know just the place.

“You book the Uber, I’ll sort out the location.”

“Deal.”