was cement. I didn't care, not one iota, but I followed anyway. I was more curious to what he had to say and then when we were in his office and he shut the door, I knew he meant business. He indicated the couch across from his desk.
I perched on the end.
He took his seat and folded his hands on the desk. He looked at them.
I waited.
No one spoke.
Then he cursed under his breath and looked up. His eyes were bleak again.
I frowned. I didn't care why he looked like that. It made no difference to me now…
He started, "Do you know how much trouble you could've been?"
"If you had called the cops?"
"Yes," he snapped out. "Samantha, this is not a joke."
"I'm not laughing."
"If anyone else would've seen and had called the cops, I wouldn't have been able to protect you. The cops have the right to press charges, even if the offended party doesn't want them to."
"So you're saying you don't want me charged?"
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't call the cops for a reason."
"Why's that?" I was in shock at my own voice. I sounded so bored.
He bit out a few curses. The hostility of them drew me upright again and something stirred in me. It was like I was coming awake again.
He glared at me. "Of course, I don't want you hurt. Why would you think that? I raised you, Samantha."
"Even though I'm not your daughter."
His chest heaved up and down and he looked like he was fighting for control. His voice was strained a second later. "I loved you, all your life, like you were my daughter. And what happened to you wasn't your fault—"
I shot to my feet, though I hugged myself. "According to Analise , it was both of your faults."
"I loved her." He laughed to himself. The sound sent chills down my back. "Because I don't make millions or because I'm not handsome like him doesn't mean that I didn't love your mother. I loved her very much."
I blinked. And everything was gone in the next moment. My anger vanished. My sarcasm, my self-loathing, my hatred for him—all was gone. And I collapsed down on the couch again. My face was buried in my hands.
He continued in a distant voice, "I loved my marriage how it was…" His chair squeaked and his voice was clearer now. "Stop hanging out with the Kade boys."
I looked up.
He watched me intently, his eyes never wavered away. "They are not good for you. They are dangerous to you."
It all shut down again and I stood. "I thought you said to make friends?"
"I was hoping for the best then. Now I'm preparing for the worst." His face was clouded. "Stay away from them, as much as possible. Please, Samantha."
I gave him a wry look. "If only it were that simple." And then I opened the door and went through the boys' locker room. The bell rang as I got to the hallway and I took refuge in my last three periods.
No Becky. No Adam. No one who cared was in those classes.
I was able to breathe easier knowing that.
After my last period, I escaped easily.
When I got to the mansion, I was surprised to find Logan in the dining room. He had books and papers spread out over the table and he glanced up idly. When he saw it was me, his focused snapped to attention. He gave me a lopsided grin, but my back straightened.
I wasn't fooled.
"We're doing a charity thing with your school this weekend."
I shrugged and went to the kitchen.
"It's another football game."
My hand paused when I reached for a water bottle.
"Your dad's going to be there." He'd gotten up and leaned against a counter close to me. "What are you going to do?"
I shut the door and watched him. "What do you mean?"
"Who are you going to cheer for? Your loser school or your new soon-to-be stepbrothers?"
"And why would you assume I'd be there?"
He shrugged, but I caught his cocky grin. "It's for charity. Your whole school will be there."
"When is it?"
"Saturday night."
"Why not Friday night?"
He rolled his eyes and pushed off from the counter. I tensed when he reached around me and opened the fridge. His arm brushed
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