Don’t shut down.
Even as I imagined the wrath we were both sure to face at some point today, I never once thought it would be in this setting. Easton’s return gaze tells me he didn’t either. I’d hoped to deal with my father privately, at home, without Easton present. Panic rears its ugly head, paralyzing me as Joel and my father argue outside—their voices becoming more aggressive. Turning back to the mirror, I continue to try and wrestle my appearance.
“Beauty, look at me,” Easton commands in a level tone from where he stands a few feet away, and I lift my eyes to focus on his reflection. “No, look at me.”
Glancing over to where he stands, I find no trace of fear before giving him a firm nod. We silently exchange assurances in our decision to live permanently on this side of the glass. This is our reality now. We made it this way.
Unified, position clear, Easton heads for the door, and I trail him a few feet behind. When Easton opens it, I instantly catch my father’s eyes as they blaze down Easton’s frame over Joel’s shoulder, his features twisted in undeniable fury.
Joel stands as a human shield in the doorway, a wall between Easton and Dad as they stare off for the first time. That is until Dad’s eyes catch mine.
“Daddy,” I croak, feeling the crippling impact of the hurt and rage in his stare as Joel’s shoulders go rigid in preparation.
“Joel, let him through,” Easton says, opening the door further in invitation for my father.
“Easton,” Joel objects as Easton shakes his head and cuts through it.
“Let him through,” Easton says more firmly.
Joel glances back at him warily but relents. “I’ll be right outside.”
Easton nods, and Joel steps aside as my father’s scowl returns to Easton before he strides into the room and stops, his arctic gaze zeroing in on the bed behind my shoulder before he surveys the villa. I take in the view as he does—empty champagne bottles everywhere, clothes that were discarded in haste to get naked exactly where we left them. A slew of used room service trays cover the table and kitchen island. Dad stops between the living and dining room, chest heaving, seeming to try and collect himself while casting his gaze out the sliding glass doors that lead to the patio. His gritted first words are meant for me. “Please, put some fucking clothes on.”
His scathing order covers every inch of my exposed skin as he keeps his back to me. I make a mad dash to our room and pull on some shorts and a T-shirt before racing back to the living room. As I do, I glance over at Easton, who stands a few feet away, his expression like granite, posture guarded, which means he’s already on the defensive. Even so, I know he’s determined to keep his temper in check to try and reason with my dad—which gives me a ray of hope.
The longest minute of my life passes before Dad finally turns and shoots daggers directly at Easton. “Who the fuck does this? What respectable man does this?”
“Daddy, I’m just as much to blame,” I start as Easton speaks up.
“Your approval was never coming,” Easton relays in an even tone. “There was no way around that. But I do have respect for you, sir, and it comes from how you raised her, her core beliefs, and the incredible woman she is. Respect aside, the truth of the matter is, we both know you don’t want to know me.”
“You knew,” he clips out accusingly. “You both knew, and you did this, knowing.”
“Daddy,” I speak up in an attempt to gain his attention, and he swivels his head in my direction, his expression filled with something I never thought I’d see directed at me in my lifetime—revulsion.
“How long?” he rasps out. “How fucking long has this been going on?”
“Four months,” I admit with a shaky voice.
“How?”
“The archives,” I confess, “I was looking up old articles for the thirtieth edition and found emails between you and Stella, and so I—”
He takes a step toward me, cocking his head. “You what?”
“I know it was wrong, but I got…immersed in your love story with her, and I…” How can I possibly explain this to him now? No part of his current disposition indicates he’s capable of an ounce of understanding, but I press on as my worst nightmare unfolds. “I didn’t want to ask you about it because I know when it ended…y-you got hurt.” I catch his flinch as though every word of my confession is a physical blow. “You never told me about your relationship with her…I-I contacted Easton—”
“And started a goddamn fling with the one human being on earth I would forbid you to see?”
“Far from a fucking fling,” Easton defends in a clipped tone, “never was. That was the problem.”
Dad’s features distort in indignation as he turns to address Easton. “You’re walking a very fucking thin line, considering,” my father warns, his tone deadly.
“I understand you’re pissed, but please don’t come at me that way,” Easton grits out. “I’m trying here.”
“Daddy, I’m just as much to blame, more so even than him.”
Tension rolls throughout the room, and I can physically feel Easton begin to battle his temper as he speaks up. “At least give us a chance to explain ourselves. I don’t expect your understanding.”
“You better not expect my goddamned acceptance either!” Dad roars, upturning a nearby tray which crash lands on the floor. Broken dishes shatter while water runs in rivulets away from my newly-scattered, glass-embedded pink roses.
Never in my life have I seen my father lash out physically in anger, not like this. Trepidation fills me as he pins me with his glare. “I won’t fucking accept this, Natalie!” His eyes dart to Easton and back to me. “Is that why you married him?”
“No,” I speak up, finding strength in the truth. “Just the opposite. The night I married him was the first and only time since he and I met that I allowed myself to be with him without a single thought of you. I married him because he understands me. Because being with him makes me happy. Because I love him with every fiber of my being. Every minute we were together before this weekend, it was thoughts of you, of how you would feel, that kept—”
“But they didn’t stop you,” Dad rages. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”
“Daddy, I tried. I tried so hard, but Easton and I, we,” I shake my head as hot tears fill my eyes and my vision blurs. “I know you know what this feels like—”
“Don’t you dare!” Dad roars, and I jump back.
“Please stop screaming at my wife,” Easton bristles, nostrils flaring, voice dangerously low, “you’re scaring her.”
“Your wife,” Dad snarls, before immediately stalking toward him, posture threatening. “Your wife!”
“Daddy!” I cry out in fear as Easton lifts his chin, eyes darkening, posture tensing. In that moment, I don’t even recognize my father until he stops a few feet away, hands fisted just as a lethal warning slices through the commotion.
“Take another threatening step toward my son, Butler, and I’ll fucking end you.” The entirety of the room fills with a dangerous air as the three of us collectively turn toward the front door of the villa, and all eyes land on Reid Crowne.
Easton
Storming into the villa, Dad steps around me to go head-to-head with Nate, and I palm his chest, his outrage tangible.
“Dad, don’t,” I press in and can physically feel the anger in Dad’s shaking frame as he barks around me while I try to step between them. “What the fuck, Nate? Were you seriously going to strike my son?!”
Nate scoffs, “I’m not the man to take the underhanded route, Reid. That’s more your fucking specialty, isn’t it?”
“Didn’t look that way to me,” Dad grits out, frame still coiling beneath my hand. As they weigh each other, I glimpse a view of the history between them before Nate claps back.
“Well, we both know things aren’t always what they seem, don’t we, Reid? I prefer to use my intelligence over my fist to make a point, which may be a foreign concept for you.”