Page 62 of Point of Contention

Impossible.

We reached the curb and Greer lifted her head. Her eyes constricted and her lips pulled into a tight line.

I took a deep breath and looked at my mother instead. “Mom, this is Cabot.” I motioned toward him and looked up into his eyes. “This is my mom, Marnie Blake.”

His eyes widened briefly, but I doubted anyone else would catch the movement, as no sooner than it was there, he’d replaced it with a warm smile for my mother. Extending his hand to her, he said, “Mrs. Blake, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His gaze flicked to me, a million questions in his eyes, but then he focused the weight of his stare and that megawatt smile on my mother.

She shook his hand hesitantly, glancing back and forth between us as she returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you, as well, Cabot…” her words trailed off, as if there was more she wanted to say but refrained.

She held his hand a bit longer than was necessary and my stomach twisted as I remembered the way she used to grill my boyfriends back home.

Please God no.

“Well then,” I began—

“Let’s go,” Greer said, interrupting me. She opened the door and looked at me pointedly.

I bit down on my bottom lip, then squared my shoulders. “Actually, um…”

“I’ve invited Rylan to lunch,” Cabot said, saving me from the awkwardness of the moment. “I hope the three of you don’t mind.” Finally free of my mother’s grip on his hand, he returned it to my lower back.

Greer’s eyes narrowed and she focused on me, then cocked one eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s just lunch.”

Lies.

Nothing with Cabot wasjustanything. It waseverything.

“When will you be home?” my mom asked.

“I… I don’t know.”

Accepting this, she looked up at Cabot. “RJ hasn’t been eating.”

“Oh my god,Mom.” Embarrassment heated my cheeks and I closed my eyes. She’d managed to make me feel thirteen years old again with just four simple words.

Cabot’s fingers flexed on my back. “I’ll see that she does.”

“O-kay,” I said, turning away from my mom’s watchful eyes and my best friend’s barely restrained displeasure, ending the conversation as quickly as I could. The last thing I wanted was either one of them unloading all of my childhood trauma onto Cabot. Our relationship—hell,life—was complicated enough without the man finding out I had an issue with food when I was younger. I didn’t now, and my mom need not to worry, but I still didn’t want that part of my past exposed. Cabot was domineering by nature, and I refused to let food be something he felt he had any control over.

Now, if he wanted to control me in the Rabbit Hole again, that was a different story entirely.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cabot

As much as I needed to touch her, to reassure myself she was here, real and present in my life again, I knew Rylan well enough to know that it had to be on her terms. I couldn’t rush things. The fact that she had wanted to leave the professor’s funeral with me was a major step forward. I rejoiced that small victory as we sat on opposite sides of the back seat.

She stared out the window and I stared at her. She was truly stunning. She smirked from time to time during the drive across town, and I knew she felt my gaze, but she didn’t look at me, didn’t comment about my relentless staring.

Dressed in a simple black dress, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail and minimal makeup, she reminded me of that first day she walked into Reed Tower. She’d been all business that day, demure and determined.

So much had changed since then, but as I watched her now, it was no wonder she’d sucked me in immediately and become the focus of my entire world. I was completely transfixed.

Even now, with my company in the cross hairs of a competing publishing house and my father making me jump through hoops to prove myself worthy of the throne, I knew that—if nothing else—having Rylan in my life would make it complete.

Cole maneuvered the car into the underground parking garage and I tore my gaze away from Rylan to look at the paparazzi gathered outside my building as we disappeared below. My jaw tightened as I stared at the vultures until the garage blocked them from view. I grew tired of their constant presence, annoyed that they had yet to find another story worthy of their attention. I’d thought they’d grown tired of us, but seeing us reconnect at the funeral must have restored their obsession with the publishing tycoon and the intern.