Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

FORREST

Lacing my fingers with hers, I walk us across the grounds and toward the main house. The party today is a heavy lunch. Tonight is the final party, with an au revoir breakfast in the morning.

And then we can get the fuck out of here.

I want to leave right fucking now, but Brooklynn is right when she says that this isn't just for me but for my future, too.

No matter what, I think I'm going to go ahead and get an attorney. Whatever my parents agree to by tomorrow, they could take away in the next breath, and that is bullshit because it's not really their money to give me. It's my grandparents'.

I could live more than comfortably without my parents' money because my grandparents were the ones who truly hooked me up. My parents' money isn't anything to laugh at, but my grandparents' money is so much that I could live my entire life without lifting a single finger, as could my children and their children.

"Forrest," Brooklynn calls out as soon as we approach the house. I wrap my fingers around the knob and start to open the door when she snaps the word, "No."

I lift my head, and my gaze finds hers. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. When I open my mouth to ask her what's wrong, she continues speaking.

"No," she says, repeating the word.

I don't understand it, but as I glance around, I can't help but think that she knows exactly what the fuck is going on here. And although she's saying the word, it's another thing she's got on her plate. Another thing that is so not her fucking issue—but mine.

"No?" I ask, even though I'm certain I know what she's going to say.

"No," she repeats, but thankfully, this time she continues. "You're not going to walk away from this, and you're not going to give in. This crazy-ass life is yours, and we're going to get your birthright back."

Fuck me, but this woman is worth a million bucks. Sexy and determined as hell. It's almost like she's not real. I've never had anyone believe in me the way she does.

"Then let's go."

I tug the door open, then hold it for her to pass through. My mother would likely prefer we used the main entrance, but I don't give much of a fuck about that. She can kick rocks, especially with the way she's been acting during all of this.

The blatant disrespect of my relationship, fake or otherwise, is astounding yet not at all shocking. She is a Westwood, after all. Even if she wasn't born into the family, she is, without a doubt, created by them.

I suck in a breath as we walk through the door and move toward the party. It doesn't surprise me that she's holding it in the formal dining room, and it also doesn't surprise me that she's completely changed the whole space from last night.

I'm sure people worked all night and into the wee hours of the morning on cleaning it up and redecorating. They were paid handsomely without a doubt, but at the same time, I also don't doubt that my mother was a nightmare to work for.

When we step into the party, I am not surprised to see that Kiki is there with her mother, and they are dressed in the brightest, most god-awful clothes possible. They want to stand out and be seen.

So I ignore them.

My father is the first to appear in front of me. He is smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Can I talk to you, son?" he asks.

Son.

It's a title that I don't particularly care for, seeing as it is supposed to be something warm and happy. It's not that. It's never been that, and it will never be that. Shifting my attention from him to Brooklynn, I lift a brow in question.

Like the amazing fake girlfriend and real lover she is, she gives me a smile and an approving nod before she releases my hand and takes a step backward. Reluctantly, I leave her and follow my father toward his office.

My father holds the door open for me, then closes it and locks it as I move into the middle of the room. I watch him as he slowly makes his way behind his desk, his eyes lifting to find mine as he places his palms on the center and bends slightly at the waist.

I love how fucking dramatic he's being right now, but at the same time, I don't have the patience for this shit. But I wait, knowing that if I try and rush his dramatics, he's going to get pissed off and take ten times as long.

So I wait.

And finally, he decides to tell me why the fuck he called me in here.

"Are you finished with the charade?" he asks.

Arching a brow, I cross my arms over my chest and tip my chin, looking down my nose at him. He smiles and then stands up straight when I don't respond. I have absolutely nothing to fucking say to him, but I know he has plenty to say to me, so I wait some more.

"Finish that shit, the hockey stuff. Come and work for the family business and get your money."

"Why does it matter if I work for the business?" I ask. "That money isn't yours or anyone else's to give me. It's mine on my twenty-fifth birthday. I was born into this family, so, therefore, it's fucking mine," I grind out the words.

I know that every man in my family since the early nineteen hundreds has received an allowance, inheritance, or trust fund stipend of some kind, monthly, from their twenty-fifth birthday until the day they die. I also know that the principal can never be touched.

He snorts but obviously doesn't take me seriously. Instead, he takes a step backward and leans his back against the bookshelves behind him, then crosses his arms over his chest, matching my stance.

"Because those are my terms, and birthday or not, I'm the one who signs off on the money. So you get nothing unless I approve."

Asshole.

"Also, I find it funny that you would bring this woman with you in an attempt to get your inheritance. She's obviously not of our ilk or status. So I'm unsure of what you thought you would achieve by presenting her here, but if it's my or your mother's approval, you are sadly mistaken."

Hate is a strong word. And I'm not one to use it often, but right now, I hate my father. Not because of money, but because he's a judgmental asshole. For whatever reason, he's decided that he can choose my career and my woman.

They are not for him to choose.

"Brooklynn comes from money, just not old money. Not that that shit matters, because it doesn't. And I'm done asking for what's rightfully mine. I leave tomorrow, and don't expect to see me again because I am done."

Turning on my heels, I walk away from my father, not caring what the fuck he thinks or says. But he doesn't let me off that easily. When he calls out my name, I turn my head to look over my shoulder and meet his glare.

It's directed right at me, though I know he's not angry with me as a person. No. He's pissed off because he can't control me. And I won't let him. Because fuck him. Fuck all of this. This drama isn't worth it. I'll just go to an attorney. I'm done trying to play their game, any game.

"You walk away from me, and we're done here," he snaps.

Shaking my head once, I let out a snort. "We were done here a long-ass time ago."

And with that, I walk out of his office and back to the party. I know that my move, my ignoring him, my perceived disrespect, is eating at him, but I don't care. The scene at the party is much what I expected.

Kiki and her mother are staring at Brooklynn, their glares fully focused on her and unbreaking. I shift my attention from them, knowing that I'll never see them again, so I couldn't give a fuck less about their nasty glares.

As I move toward Brooklynn, I decide to gather her up and take her back to the guesthouse and fuck her again. Once this morning wasn't enough. I need more. So much more. I need to explore every square inch of her body with my tongue. I want to taste all of her.

My mother stands beside Brooklynn, their arms hooked, but I know that's my mother's way of controlling the conversation and Brooklynn at the same time. No more of this pompous, manipulative bullshit. I am fucking over it.

"Ladies," I say as I approach.

I don't even notice who they're talking to. I don't care. It doesn't fucking matter. I am not just done, I am beyond fucking done right now, and I need out of here, but I would never leave Brooklynn alone in this den of wolves.

Ignoring my mother, I focus on Brooklynn. She tilts her head back, her eyes find mine, and she searches my gaze. Then, as if she can sense my mood, she frowns.

She opens her mouth, and I have no doubt she's going to ask me if I'm okay. Clearly, I'm not, but that doesn't mean I need to announce it right now. "I think it's time to go ahead and head out, Brook."

Her lips snap closed, and she stares at me for a long moment. Then she smiles. It's soft and sweet. I'm unable to stay away from her, unable to keep my hands and mouth off her. Those plump pink lips beg for me to taste them.

I gently pinch her chin with my thumb and index finger before I lower my head and touch my lips to hers. "Let's go home, honey," I rasp against her mouth. "I'm done here."

She doesn't question me, though that's likely because she's playing the part of my girlfriend, but also because she's probably ready to fucking leave as well. I wouldn't blame her. This whole thing was not only stupid but a gigantic waste of time.

Without another word, ignoring my mother completely, I take Brooklynn's free hand and guide her away from the party, the people, and the house. Brooklynn doesn't say anything until we're inside the guesthouse.

The last thing I want to do right now is talk, but I'll give it to her because, unlike my parents, I respect Brooklynn. She opens her mouth to speak, likely to ask me what the actual fuck is going on, but I beat her to it.

"This was partially a dumb idea, but only because of the money thing. My father isn't going to budge, and he wants what he wants the way he wants it. I'm not willing to give that to him, so lawyering up is going to be the only way to go. This wasn't a dumb idea in the sense that we hooked up. I'd like to continue hooking up from here until the end of time. So that's the only good thing that came out of this trip. Oh, and closure."

"Closure?" she asks, ignoring the rest of my small speech.

"Closure," I confirm with a single nod. "My relationship with my parents was nonexistent before this. It's even more so now, and I'm good with that. I'm at peace with that, and I'm ready to get my shit together. I'm twenty-four, so I have time to save money."

Brooklynn's lips curve up into a smile. "I'm sad about your family. But the rest of it, I'm also good with, especially the hooking up part… repeatedly ."

"Fuck yes," I hiss. "Repeatedly, starting now."