Sky's POV — Lunch With Dad
There's a very specific kind of silence that fills a high-end restaurant booth when your father's looking at you like you've just dragged his name through mud.
It's linen-starched, mahogany-backed, and sharp as shattered glass.
I smile sweetly anyway.
"Avocado toast?" I offer, pushing the plate toward him like it's a peace treaty. "It's got truffle oil."
Dad doesn't even blink. "Where were you Saturday night?"
Right. No truce then.
I tuck my hair behind my ears. Carefully. Chin up. Shoulders back. Long sleeves down.
Back in costume: the perfect daughter. Daddy's sharpest weapon in heels.
"Studying," I say lightly. "You know, law school stuff."
He raises an eyebrow. "With who?"
With Ray Maddox pressed against my mouth on a rooftop.
"With a classmate. Nothing serious."
He leans forward. "Was this before or after you decided to speed past my car on a motorcycle you failed to mention you owned?"
Shit.
"Borrowed," I correct. "Technically. From a friend."
"Skylar—"
"Dad." I lace my fingers together. "You raised me to be independent, remember?"
"I raised you to be discreet. Strategic. Untouchable." His voice sharpens. "And now I hear whispers about you skipping mock trials, showing up late to class—with bruises, might I add—and Maddox?"
The name alone feels like an indictment.
I sip my water slowly. Swallow hard. "There's nothing going on."
He lowers his voice. "Sebastian Maddox's son is a walking PR disaster. You don't flirt with our rivals' blood."
I smile tightly. "I don't flirt."
"Then explain the hickeys."
Fuck.
He's not asking. He's telling me he saw them.
So I do what I always do.
I lie.
"Got drunk. Made out with some rugby guy. Total nobody. Won't happen again."
He watches me. Long. Hard. Measuring every inch of my answer.
Finally, he nods. "Good. I've scheduled a brunch with Senator Lin's daughter this weekend. You'll go. Clean. Polished. In white."
I hate white.
"Of course."
"And Skylar?"
"Yes, Dad?"
"Stay away from Ray Maddox. I don't care if he's charming, or rich, or has you convinced he's worth risking your future. He isn't. He's his father's son."
I nod, eyes lowered. "Understood."
But I also know two things:
1. Ray Maddox is a problem I don't want to stay away from.
2. I'm seeing him in class in twenty minutes.
And underneath this perfect white turtleneck, his mark is still blooming like a violet promise I never meant to keep.
---
I'm slicing through avocado toast like it personally offended me when my phone buzzes against the table.
Dad glances at it. I snatch it up before he can read the name.
Ray Maddox.
Of course.
Ray:
You look tense. Is Daddy giving you a lecture again, Princess?
I glance up, plaster on a sweet smile while Dad rambles about Senator Lin's daughter.
Ray:
Bet your thighs are still sore from last night.
Does he know the marks aren't from rugby boy?
My fork slips. I cough. Regroup.
"Everything okay?" Dad asks, eyes sharp.
"Yeah," I say, voice higher than usual. "Just a study group thing."
Buzz.
Ray:
Tell him thanks for dressing you up. White looks filthy on you.
Almost makes me want to ruin it all over again.
My face heats. I cross my legs. Straighten my back.
I type under the table.
Me:
Do you have a death wish?
Buzz.
Ray:
Only if you're the one granting it.
Bathroom. Five minutes. Or I come sit at your table and say hi to Daddy myself.
My heart drops.
He wouldn't.
Would he?
I shoot him a glare through the restaurant window. He's out there. Leaning on his matte black bike.
Smirking like the devil that tasted heaven and knows it'll come back to him.
"Skylar?" Dad's voice cuts in. "You're flushed."
"I'm fine," I croak, downing half my water.
Buzz.
Ray:
Tick-tock, baby. I'm hard already. Make a choice.
And just like that, my appetite is gone.