Pure Seduction by Frank, Ella (first ebook reader .txt) 📕

heart began to thump and my hands turned clammy. “I think I probably should, don’t you?”

Jake shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. But his twitching jaw told me otherwise. “Probably.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

Jake eyed me, then said, “Do you still love him?”

Words failed me as I stared into his eyes, because for the first time since Noah’s return, I allowed myself to acknowledge the fact that I’d never stopped loving him. But instead of pushing me, Jake offered me his hand.

“Why don’t you let me help you down this hill? The last thing I need is you crying over a broken set of heels and spending my college money on their replacements.”

I’d never loved my kid more than I did in that moment. For his grace under pressure, his understanding of the hard emotions, and his ability to forgive when many would not. I knew he was likely just as scared as I was about the future, but as long as we faced it together, I knew we would be okay.

31

Noah

A SON? LAUREL had a son who was practically a man?

It’d been nearly two hours since I’d heard her say the words, and still, I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around it. That might also have something to do with the copious amounts of whiskey I’d been downing since planting my ass on a barstool at Gallagher’s, but hey, who could blame me?

A son… How was that even possible?

Okay, note to self: don’t actually ask someone that, or they’re going to look at you as though you’re insane. It was possible because Laurel was gorgeous and she had obviously been in relationships after me—as much as I hated to think about that.

But her kid had to be, what? Late teens? Which meant she had to have gotten pregnant right after I left, and that cut much deeper than it probably should have.

I looked down the bar to where—What was his name again? Oh, that’s right, Marty—stood chatting with some other customers. When I caught his eye, I raised a hand. A furrow creased his brow as he made his way over.

I pointed to my empty tumbler. “Can I get another?”

He looked to the empty glass and then back to me. “I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”

Was he serious right now?

“Maybe you should give Ryan a call? See if he’s around.”

Translation: Maybe he can come and babysit you. No thanks; I wasn’t in the mood for questions. Plus, I was still pissed that Ryan hadn’t told me about this mystery child of Laurel’s. I mean, maybe then I wouldn’t have looked like such a fucking moron this afternoon accusing her of dating her own son.

“I don’t want to call Ryan. I want another drink.”

Marty drummed his fingers on the counter and then grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “This is the last one. Got it?”

“Fine.”

I handed over my credit card and was about to pick up my drink when I heard a familiar and unwelcome voice. “Well, don’t you look like shit.”

Justin. Great. Out of all the people I wanted to talk to right now, he would be dead last. But it seemed God wanted to screw with me tonight, because instead of leaving me the hell alone, Justin took the empty stool beside me.

“So, who died and made you look so fucking miserable? Can’t be grief over Harry catching up with you, so…”

I picked up my tumbler and tossed back the drink, and as it burned a path down my throat, I angled my head so I could eye my youngest brother. “What do you want?”

Marty walked over, handed me back my card, and slid a beer on the counter in front of Justin, who gave him a quick wave then watched the old man leave.

“Don’t want anything. Just curious why you look like you were run over by a Mack truck.”

“Why? So you can give me shit? No offense, but I’m really not in the fucking mood.”

I fingered the edge of the glass and willed my brother to leave. But when the seat beside me remained occupied, I started wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me instead.

“Drinking hard on a Monday night.” Justin let out a long whistle. “Something big must’ve ruffled that perfectly pressed suit of yours.”

Just about done with this day as a whole, I got to my feet, ready to leave. But when the bar began to spin, my foot hit my stool and I had to place a hand on the counter to steady myself.

Justin scoffed. “You’re so fucking wasted. How many drinks have you had?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Okay, but how you planning on getting home? You can barely walk in a straight line.”

“I’ll call an…an Uber.”

That made Justin laugh. “An Uber? Where do you think you are? L.A.? I could drive you home and back three times before an Uber got here.”

“I don’t want you to drive me anywhere.”

“Good, ’cause I wasn’t offering.” He picked up his beer and took a swig. “I was just pointing out the fact that you’re an idiot. Have a good night.”

Justin went to turn back to the bar, but before he could, I grabbed his shoulder. “What’s your fucking problem?”

He eyed me for a second and then shrugged. “Don’t have a problem.”

“Bullfuckingshit. You’ve been nothing but an ass ever since I got back here, and for what reason? You have to come to me once a month to get hundreds of thousands of dollars? Oh, your life must be so hard. Sooo fucking miserable. Right, Justin? How do you deal with it?”

I could feel the alcohol coursing through me now, along with all my frustrations over everything that had changed in my life, and suddenly I couldn’t shut my damn mouth.

“Unlike you, I’ve had to leave my whole goddamn life behind. My business. My friends. And all for—”

“Your family?” Justin fired back, getting to his feet. “Yeah, what a damn sacrifice it is you’re making. You’ve walked back into the top job of a