Hidden (Stolen, Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

That sounded really good. “Okay. Since you twisted my arm and all.”

Kye smiled, but Harper saw the worry in her friend’s eyes.

“This is a good thing right?” Harper asked. She didn’t need to specify that she was talking about the negative test sitting in the bathroom trash.

“Yeah,” Kylie said. “Considering everything, it probably is.”

Her phone beeped and Harper looked down. It was a reminder from her mother that they were meeting for dinner tonight. She almost texted back that she wasn’t going, but it was as if her mother knew what was coming.

I need you there, Harper. Please.

“You know that’s considered emotional blackmail, right?” Kylie said, reading over Harper’s shoulder.

“I know,” Harper groaned.

“By definition, the word insanity means doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.” Kylie raised one eyebrow and Harper couldn’t deny it one bit.

She already knew she wasn’t going to tell her mother no. She was still going to meet her parents for dinner tonight like any good, certifiable daughter would do.

Insanity, thy name is Harper.

H
arper walked
into La’Prima at eight on the dot.

Her parents were already there, seated at their usual table toward the back. She cringed at the glances being sent her way. As if she were guilty by association.

The only reason her father even got a table at the exclusive Italian restaurant when every other upscale place in the city snubbed him was because he’d given Thomas Conesta a loan to keep this place afloat several years ago and the man owed his current success to her father.

They always had the best table there because of it.

“Harper,” her mother said with a forced smile. “You didn’t have time to change?”

Harper gritted her teeth. After the day she had, the last thing she wanted was to have dinner and make polite conversation with her father.

So instead of her usual dress and heels, she’d thrown on jeans and her favorite heather grey sweater, knowing it would piss her father off. The narrowed eyed look he sent her when he stood up almost made her smile except all she could think about was what he’d done to Ethan’s father.

This united front her mother insisted on was getting harder to pull off. Her father was guilty. He stole money and got caught. She clenched her hands and sat down when Antonio, the long time maître d', slid out her chair.

After her father sat back down and waved Antonio away, he picked his wine glass back up and scanned the restaurant, his face a mask of superiority. As if he deserved to be sitting there acting all high and mighty.

Harper clenched her hands together in her lap.

“So after this trial business, we were thinking of going overseas on a family vacation. Italy maybe? Remember that lovely villa we stayed in a few years ago?” Her mother’s voice was bright and cheery and she looked at Harper expectedly. As if the trial were nothing more than a blip on her radar.

Neither of them acted like everything that had happened was more than a small nuisance. Their family’s reputation was in shambles, they were being snubbed everywhere, and the public outcry against her father was only growing.

And the idea that they would have money to vacation anywhere was a pipe dream. The government was going to send her father to jail and make sure that every last dime was accounted for in order to pay back the many victims—which would take hundreds of years to do in the best case scenario.

Why the hell did they not see it?

Antonio came back, directing a man who carried a large tray covered in plates. With a flourish they were served and Antonio gave them a slight bow.

“Lobster Risotto Milanese, lightly drizzled with a lobster bisque crème sauce. Prepared especially for you, compliments of Mr. Conesta, on the house of course. Enjoy.”

Her father preened under the attention. The only reason that Thomas Conesta catered to him was because he felt obligated. She wanted to yell that no matter how much money her father had given the man, it didn’t buy respect. Just because there were still a few people left in Boston who could pretend her father wasn’t a horrible person, didn’t make it true.

But it was as if he didn’t care. He still acted as like he was a big man and ignored the pointed stares, the whispers directed at them. He sipped his wine with a smirk on his lips and contempt in his stare.

It was probably a good thing she wasn’t pregnant, because her father would find some way to twist a baby to his advantage. The thought of him having any leverage over Ethan and his family made her stomach twist so tight she couldn’t even swallow a bite of food.

These dinners were a waste of time.

Why I am I here? Why do I keep pretending?

That he dragged Harper into the deception only made her dislike him more. Her father could been seen as much as he wanted to, but no one was fooled by his pretend act of normalcy, least of all her.

The din of the restaurant pushed in on her. Conversations. Voices. Low enough that she didn’t hear actual words, but enough to know they weren’t alone. Silverware clinked and the wait staff bustled around the dining room.

Glances were thrown their way occasionally, but Harper had sat with her back to as much of the room as possible, while he father faced them all head on.

Unlike her father, who liked any kind of attention, Harper preferred to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible. Which had proven to be harder than she expected now that the trial was growing closer.

“Thomas has outdone himself,” her mother gushed, seemingly oblivious to the looks they were getting. “He always takes such good care of us. I tell everyone that this is the best place in the city to eat.”

As if anyone really listened to her family anymore.

Her phone buzzed with a text and Harper gladly let it take her attention away from having to watch her parents act as if nothing was wrong.

Ethan:
We need to talk.

Anger, and yes a little sadness welled up inside her. No they really
didn’t
need to talk. Not anymore. She ignored his words and set her phone down.

Harper, please.

You have to talk to me.

Damn it, call me. We really need to talk.

God, she should just text him that she wasn’t pregnant so he could stop feeling like he had to see her. Once it was clear that he had no reason to be near her, he could just stop.

That hurt her more than it should.

“Harper, your mother asked you a question.” Her father’s disapproving voice broke through her thoughts. He glared at her over the rim of his wine glass. What was that? Three or four glasses now?

Her ability to play nice was slowly unraveling. Maybe if her father didn’t act so smug, so
superior
, to everyone sitting in the restaurant she might have been able to pretend, but not when he was acting like some kind of fucking saint.

“What?” she snapped loudly.

“Harper Lauren Matheson, you will not speak in that tone,” he hissed. His glance slid around the room checking to see if anyone had seen the little slip of the perfect family. “Especially not in public.”

“Or what,
dad
? You’re going to ground me?” Another text made her phone buzz. She lifted it up and smirked at him. “Take my phone away?”

“I’m warning you,” he said. His face had gone red and he gripped the wineglass so hard she hoped it would shatter. Maybe then the public would get a glance at the real man behind his mask. Not that they didn’t already know. The press made sure that every sordid detail of his actions was known to all.

“Harper,” her mother said softly, obviously trying to ease the growing tension between her and her father. “I was asking how things between you and Stan were. I miss him coming around. He was such a nice young man from such a good family. You were so perfect together.”

If her mother thought that, then she was a little more delusional that Harper thought.

They really weren’t, and even if Stan hadn’t bolted the minute her father’s scandal hit the papers, their relationship wouldn’t have lasted much longer. He was very good looking no doubt, but he knew it and the arrogance that came along with his
good
family name got old really fast. Everywhere they’d gone together, he acted as though he was better than everyone else. A lot like her father did. It was that same egotism that made him tell her that he couldn’t be associated with her father, and by default, Harper.

I’m not going to stop texting until you answer me.

Ethan was relentless. She wanted to throw her phone across the room. How many more times would he text before her non response made it clear she didn’t want to talk to him?

No we really don’t.
She texted back.

I’m calling you now. Answer the phone.

It started to buzz and she immediately hit Decline.

Suddenly, her father’s voice broke through her rising frustration.

“...Thankfully, Brian served the papers to Wentworth earlier today.”

Harper’s gaze shot up to her father, who had sat back in his chair, the smuggest look on his face that she had ever seen.

“What did you just say?” Her voice cracked and her hands shook.

“Wentworth. That son of a bitch wants to play hardball, he’s going to see what it feels like when the shoe’s on the other foot. If he thinks he can drag my name through the mud and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll bleed that bastard dry and enjoy every minute of it.”

Harper’s mouth fell open. Did he hear himself? Did he ever stop and just listen to the shit that came out of his mouth? He was going to enjoy taking all of Ethan’s father’s money after he’d already stolen millions from the man?

“Does Brian think we have a chance?” her mother asked, scooping a small spoonful of risotto into her mouth like they discussing the weather and not ruining someone’s life.

“Of course,” he said arrogantly. “When I’m through they won’t have a cent to their name.”

Everything, every single little look or side comment or holier than thou attitude landed in her lap and fiery anger filled her chest. He had fucked over so many people that he was going on trial in a federal court. There wasn’t a person in Boston who would give him the time of day unless they owed him something.

He had ruined countless lives by stealing money from people and he thought he was being wronged? That he actually deserved to come out of this by getting something?

Harper pushed back from the table so fast that her chair fell behind her with a thud. She leaned over, gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles went white.

“I feel sick,” she all but growled at her father.

“Is something wrong?” her mother asked.

“I feel sick from listening to
him
,” she replied, pointing at her father.

He glanced around then glared at her. “Sit down, Harper.”

But his command was drowned out by the thundering in her ears. People were staring openly now, but she didn’t care. Enough was enough.

“No. I won't sit here another second and listen to you act as if you did
nothing
wrong. You’re a crook and a liar. Do you really think you can get away with what you did--”

“Harper, just stop—“

“What you did to all of those innocent people? How could you do it, Dad? How could you steal so much money when we had more than we ever needed? And why won’t you just stop lying and admit that you did it?”

Her father narrowed his eyes. “You will sit down and you will stop making a scene or so help me…”

“Or what? You going to sue me too? Christ, you already illegally stole money from the Wentworth’s and now you think you should get more because they called you out on it? I honestly thought you couldn’t stoop any lower. What a piece of work you are.”

Harper stood up and sucked air into her lungs. Her entire body felt as though it was on fire and her arms and legs shook so badly, she thought she might fall over. Throughout it all her phone kept buzzing with texts and missed calls.

“Harper,” her mother gasped. Her gaze darted furtively around the dining room before settling back on her wayward daughter. As if Harper were in the wrong, just like always. “Please sit down. We can talk this over. You don’t understand...”

“Why can’t you see what’s right in front of your face, Mom?” she exploded. “He stole their money. He. Is. Guilty.”

Silence finally echoed in her head and she realized that every head in the restaurant was turned toward them watching her outburst. Even the staff had stopped moving. Her father’s jaw ticked and he sent an icy glare to the people behind her as if he could make them look away.

Fat chance. The people of Boston had been watching him for months. This scene that she had created would be all over the media in no time.

Fallen rich girl goes crazy, accuses father of being a bastard over pasta primavera.

At least it would be true. Just like everything else that they had published about the man she was biologically related to. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Her stomach twisted and she felt a little sick.

She wasn’t this person. The one who caused scenes in public, but tonight she had reached her threshold and couldn't hold her tongue anymore.

Her mother’s face went white and she grasped her linen napkin. “The papers are spreading vicious…”

“Lies?” Harper spat. “The only lies here are the ones you tell yourself. I will not stand by and pretend that I think what he did was okay. I’m tired of being found guilty by association. If you can’t see the truth, then there’s nothing left to discuss.”

Harper grabbed her purse and righted the chair.

She spun on her heel and walked from the restaurant, her head held high and her purse buzzing like an angry wasp. Hot tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Not there, not in front of everyone.

She wanted to get away. The last time she’d felt any semblance of freedom was in Tahiti. Maybe she could go back and try to recapture that feeling. A half laugh, half sob lodged in her throat and she tried to swallow it away.

Because
that
had worked out really well for her the first time.