Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1)

by Skylar Hunter

  “You should be taken down!” I hiss at him. “You stole from your clients! You’re not the victim here—they are! Anyway, what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “Don’t be naive, Emerson. You’re my daughter, and you just married into Brigham’s family. Don’t think for one second that he won’t try to use you to get to me.” My father looks me in the eye. “If you remember nothing else from this conversation, remember this: Brigham Malone is a ruthlessly ambitious man who will go to any lengths to achieve his goals. You’d do well not to underestimate him.”

  I frown, uneasiness sliding down my spine.

  “I won’t always be around to protect you,” my father continues. “Thankfully you married a man who’s more than capable of taking care of you, physically and financially. For an added measure of security, I’ve made provisions for you—”

  “I don’t want your filthy blood money! You need to repay your victims!”

  “What victims?”

  I gape at him. His face is completely devoid of expression.

  “Unbelievable,” I say, my voice shaking with rage. “So on top of being a horrible father and a thief, you’re also a fucking sociopath!”

  He gives a small chuckle. “Even if I were guilty of embezzling, Emerson, I would never tell you. It would incriminate you, make you an accessory. Haven’t you ever heard of plausible deniability? The less you know the better.”

  I shake my head in angry disbelief. “You deserve to rot in hell for what you did to those people.”

  “I’ll be there soon enough,” he says darkly, looking straight ahead. “I’m dying.”

  My blood freezes in my veins. “What?”

  “Advanced liver disease. I was diagnosed last year and had a liver transplant, but my body eventually rejected it. Doctor says there’s nothing else he can do for me. He gave me six months, says I probably won’t make it through the year.”

  I stare at him, mouth open, stunned speechless.

  “For professional reasons, I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to keep my medical records sealed. That’s why you haven’t heard about my illness in the news.” He looks at me. “I told your mother last year when I named her as my beneficiary. She wasn’t too happy about it. She doesn’t want my money any more than you do. I told her she can donate the funds to charity, build an orphanage in Ireland or treat herself to all the vacations I never took her on. The money is hers to do with as she pleases.” A small smile flits over his mouth. “It took a whole lot of groveling and apologizing, but I finally persuaded her to sign the papers. I asked her not to breathe a word to you until I was ready to approach you. I had to work up the nerve.”

  I still haven’t recovered my voice.

  He reaches inside his breast pocket, pulls out an envelope and passes it to me.

  I don’t take it. “What’s that?”

  “A copy of my medical report with the doctor’s final diagnosis. It’s all there in black and white if you need proof.”

  I stare at the sealed envelope like it’s a poisonous viper.

  “Take it.”

  I swallow hard and reluctantly accept the envelope, my fingers like ice.

  My father gazes out the window at the passing scenery, taking it all in. “I loved New York, but it’s quite beautiful here in Piedmont Bay.” His voice is quiet, tinged with regret. “I’m going to miss it.”

  I regard him sullenly. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “No. I don’t expect that at all. I sure as hell wouldn’t if I were in your shoes.”

  I stare down at the envelope, unexpected moisture stinging my eyes. “It comforted me to think of you rotting in a federal prison for the rest of your life.”

  He chuckles wryly. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  I look at him. “As long as you’re alive, you’re still going on trial in January.”

  “Maybe,” he says cryptically. “Maybe not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He holds my gaze for a long moment, then turns to look out the window. “As I said before . . . the less you know the better.”

  I stare at him, chilled by his words.

  He presses a button on his door to speak to the driver. “Take my daughter back to work.”

  We don’t exchange another word until we pull into the studio parking lot.

  My father hands my phone back to me, his gaze lingering on my face. “If at all possible, I’d like to see you one more time before . . .” His voice trails off meaningfully.

  I stare down at the envelope on my lap. “I appreciate the information you’ve shared with me today,” I say in a low voice. “But I don’t want to see you again. Frankly, I think you’re a monster. A monster who’s dying is still a monster. You’ve hurt so many people and ruined so many lives. I can’t forgive you for that. And just so you know, I won’t be attending your funeral. Not only did you abandon me and Mom, you actively tried to destroy me. Maybe being falsely accused of rape turned you against women. Maybe you saw your teenage accuser every time you looked at me. Whatever the reason, your deep-seated hatred poisoned my childhood and robbed me of happiness for years. So I feel no obligation to pay any last respects to you when you die. However . . . although you don’t deserve mercy or compassion, I do hope you find peace in the afterlife.”

  His face contorts with pain as I hand him the sealed envelope and climb out of the backseat. “Emerson—”

  “Goodbye, Father.” I close the door, stride across the parking lot and duck inside my car.

  Gasping for breath, I drop my head on the steering wheel and allow myself to cry until I can’t cry anymore.

  Then I resolutely dry my tears, start the car and drive home.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  REYES

  My gut tightens instinctively when I arrive home and see my grandparents’ chauffeured Rolls-Royce Phantom waiting in the driveway.

  Clenching my jaw, I park behind the gleaming black car, grab my gym bag and climb out. The driver buzzes down his window and waves at me.

  I nod and wave back before heading up the porch steps.

  My housekeeper meets me at the front door. “Your uncle and grandparents are here to see you. I told them you weren’t home yet, but they insisted on waiting.” She eyes me anxiously. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s fine.” I shoulder past her into the house and drop my gym bag at the base of the staircase. Then, gritting my teeth, I head into the formal living room where my uncle and grandparents are gathered.

  Grandfather and Brigham stand at the tall picture windows that frame the landscaped west lawn. Grandmother sits in a wingback armchair like a queen—back straight, chin held high, hair immaculately coiffed.

  I take off my sunglasses and look slowly around, meeting their unsmiling stares. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  An uncomfortable silence passes between them.

  “So you didn’t come bearing gifts and happy tidings?” I smile sardonically. “What a surprise.”

  Grandmother forces her lips into a smile. “We saw your wedding photos on the Internet. Everything looked lovely, and Emerson made a beautiful bride.” The words sound like they’re being dragged out of her. I know it kills her to say anything nice about a marriage she didn’t orchestrate or sanction.

  Brigham folds his arms across his chest. “We need to talk about you and Emerson. I tried to discuss my concerns with you before, but you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “So you brought Mommy and Daddy as reinforcements.” I smirk at him. “How very brave.”

  He scowls. “Now look here—”

  Grandmother raises a hand, and he shuts right up.

  I smirk harder.

  Grandmother fixes me with a conciliatory smile. The smile meant to disarm while she drives a stake through your heart.

  “My dear grandson, we’re concerned about your relationship with Emerson—”

  “Relationship?” I bite out. “
She’s my wife.”

  “Well, yes,” Grandmother acknowledges, giving me a look of stern displeasure. “That’s what we came to discuss with you.”

  I look around incredulously. “Is that what this is? An intervention?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” Brigham glares at me. “Your marriage to Silvio Sartori’s daughter is hurting our family’s reputation.”

  “Hurting your campaign, you mean,” I taunt, advancing into the room. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re down in the polls and you’re looking for someone to blame.”

  His jaw hardens. “I wouldn’t be taking a hit if it weren’t for your foolhardy association with that felonious man and his daughter. As I told you before, I make no apologies for not wanting our family entangled in Silvio Sartori’s criminal activities.”

  “Your uncle is right,” Grandmother says censoriously. “I was appalled to hear that you ran off and married that girl while her father is embroiled in scandal. What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her,” I growl.

  “Selfish boy,” Grandmother says with dismissive scorn. “You and your foolish romantic notions. Did it ever occur to you that marrying an embezzler’s daughter could bring shame upon our family name?”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  “Well, you should,” Grandfather scolds me. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a Malone, and that name comes with many privileges and responsibilities.”

  I look at him, fighting to control my temper. “With all due respect, Grandfather, I don’t need your permission or approval to live my life. Emerson is the woman I’ve chosen—”

  “A mistake that can be rectified.”

  My eyes narrow to slits. “Rectified?”

  “Yes.” Grandfather exchanges glances with the others. Then he looks at me and says seriously, “You need to annul the marriage.”

  I laugh a short laugh. “Not a fucking chance.”

  Grandmother gasps at my language.

  Grandfather frowns with displeasure.

  “You see what I mean?” Brigham bursts out in frustration, pointing accusingly at me. “He’s just as stubborn as Brooks!”

  I bare my teeth in an insolent grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Because you’re a damn fool! Just like your father!”

  I curl my lip, raking him with a sneer. “You know what, Uncle Brigs? You could be elected President of the United States. You could end world hunger, cure every disease known to man and bring peace to the planet. You could save the whole fucking world, and you still wouldn’t be half the man my father is.”

  A look of apoplectic fury suffuses Brigham’s face. “YOU DISRESPECTFUL SON OF A BITCH!” he roars, veins bulging in his forehead. “You’re so blinded by your adolescent obsession with that devil’s spawn that you can’t even see how you’ve jeopardized our family by marrying her! Goddamn you, boy! Get rid of her before she brings us all down!”

  “Fuck you,” I snarl viciously. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  He takes a threatening step toward me, but Grandfather puts a restraining hand on his chest.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down.”

  Brigham and I glare at each other, fists balled at our sides, ready to rumble.

  “God Almighty.” Grandfather wags his head at Grandmother. “Am I the only one who’s having flashbacks right now? I didn’t think it was possible, but Brigham and Reyes fight even more than he and Brooks did.”

  Grandmother glares reproachfully at me. “Brooks was stubborn, but never as hot-tempered and belligerent as Reyes. Brooks could be reasoned with. He respected family tradition and went to Harvard. He—”

  “You’re always taking his side!” Brigham yells accusingly. “Brooks raised this hotheaded boy, and you still can’t help defending him!”

  “Son,” Grandfather sternly interjects. “That’s enough.”

  Brigham opens and closes his mouth, then shoots me a resentful glare before wheeling away to glare out the window, fuming like a reprimanded child.

  Fucking pathetic.

  Grandmother looks at me, her lips pinched into a disapproving pout. “I wish you would listen to reason—”

  “Reason?” I echo. “There’s nothing reasonable about what you people are asking me to do.”

  Her eyes flash. “You wouldn’t feel that way if you cared about this family.”

  I lose my shit. “If the three of you represent this family, then this family can go straight to fucking hell!”

  Grandmother recoils in shock, clapping her hand to her chest.

  My grandfather and uncle scowl at me.

  I return their scowl, not backing down.

  Then a low voice speaks from the doorway: “Am I interrupting something?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  EMERSON

  All eyes swing to me.

  Reyes looks grim and tense.

  His grandparents are frowning.

  Brigham is glaring at me, his blue eyes glittering malevolently.

  I step through the doorway on unsteady legs, looking from one face to another. “Hello, everyone.”

  “Emerson,” Victoria says, white-lipped. “How nice to see you.”

  “Same to you,” I respond politely. “How are—”

  “Our guests were just leaving,” Reyes tersely interrupts.

  His grandparents look affronted.

  “We haven’t finished our discussion,” Brigham says with a hard edge to his voice. “Now that Emerson—”

  “It’s time for you to go.” Reyes’s tone is cold and deadly. “All of you.”

  The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.

  After exchanging displeased glances with her husband, Victoria rises stiffly from the armchair and starts in my direction.

  When she stops in front of me, I feel my stomach twist into a wrenching knot.

  She smiles coldly. “Mallory sends her regards.”

  “GET OUT!” Reyes bellows across the room.

  Victoria sneers at me before thrusting her nose in the air and marching out the door.

  Brigham gives me a this-isn’t-over glare before trailing after his parents.

  As soon as they’re gone, I whirl around to stare at Reyes. “What the hell was that?”

  “Nothing.” His voice is harsh, strained.

  “Nothing?” I repeat in disbelief. “That sure as hell didn’t sound like nothing!”

  He lets out a low hiss of frustration and scrubs the heels of his palms across his eyes.

  “What did they want?” I ask, half afraid of the answer.

  He scowls. “It’s not important.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It doesn’t mat—”

  “Just tell me!”

  “They want me to divorce you!”

  The words hit me like a slap, sending me back a step.

  Reyes watches me, his jaw moving like he’s grinding his back teeth.

  “What . . .” Tears sting my eyes and I blink them away. “What did you tell them?”

  He stares at me incredulously. “What do you think I told them? I told them to fuck off!”

  I just stand there staring at him. Between the emotional encounter with my father and the ugly scene I just interrupted, I feel bruised from the inside out.

  Reyes moves toward me, his eyes soft with apology. “Baby—”

  “Don’t.” When he tries to take me into his arms, I sidestep him and stalk over to the windows, staring outside as my emotions run rampant.

  He comes up behind me and gently turns me around, his hand stroking my cheek. “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that. I was hoping they’d be long gone before you came home.”

  “And you wonder why I didn’t want to leave Spain?” I burst out, gesturing in the direction of the doorway. “You don’t think I knew what we’d be coming home to?”
/>
  He frowns. “Em—”

  “My God, Reyes, your family wants you to leave me!”

  “I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY WANT!” he explodes.

  I stare up at him. I’m breathing too fast and too shallowly, and I feel like I’m going to break down and cry any minute.

  Reyes grips my upper arms, not hard enough to hurt me but with just enough force to let me know he’s serious. “Listen to me, sweetheart. There are only two people in this marriage. You and me. No one else. Understand? I’m your husband and you’re my wife, and nothing else matters. You hear me? Nothing and nobody matters but us.”

  I stare into his flashing eyes. Despite my efforts to hold them back, the tears fall down my cheeks.

  “Ah fuck, baby,” Reyes groans. “Please don’t cry.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t—”

  He brackets my face in his hands and seals his mouth over mine.

  I cry out softly, my heart reeling and my pulse going wild in my veins.

  He kisses me harder, thrusting his tongue between my lips and tasting every inch of my mouth.

  I moan and slide my tongue against his, my fists clutching his shirtfront as a rush of dampness moistens the flesh between my thighs.

  By the time we break apart, my yellow top is hanging off one shoulder, I’m panting uncontrollably and my nipples are hard as bullets.

  Delirious with need, I shove his shirt up his chest and lick his left nipple, making him shiver and groan.

  With a jerky tug, he pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it to the floor. Then he strips off my blouse and bra while I tug down my stretchy skirt and kick it aside.

  Wearing nothing but pink bikini panties, I drop to my knees and yank Reyes’s shorts down over his hips. When his fully engorged cock springs free, my mouth swoops down on him.

  His whole body jerks, his breath hissing out from between clenched teeth.