Brazen and Breathless (Untouchable #6) - Heather Long Page 0,103
on me. “I want five minutes with you, and then I’ll withdraw my objections. Well, we haven’t actually filed it yet, but I’ll withdraw it.”
No, I did not trust that offer.
I cut a look at Wittaker, and he gave me the barest of nods. If I wanted to speak, then he was all right with it. “Why?” I asked her.
Maddy frowned. “Because I want to talk to you…”
“Why is five minutes worth not fighting the emancipation?”
Did I want her to fight it? No.
Would it have been nice if she wanted to fight it because she actually cared about me? Yes.
I wasn’t fooling myself though.
Not anymore.
“You want it, don’t you?” she asked. “Does it really matter why?”
“You’d be surprised. Kind of like those DNA tests. Why did you have to try and track down my sperm donor? Did you lose track?”
Neither attorney moved, but Maddy straightened in her chair. “Opening my mail, Francesca?”
“Checking for bills, Madeleine. After all, you left them behind, so apparently, they didn’t matter to you anymore than I did.” Sitting forward, I stared at her. “Four tests. Four potential matches. Only one actual match. Were you planning on sharing this information, or was there some other purpose you’ve failed to mention? Apparently, you have a thing for married men…”
“Would you gentlemen excuse us?” Maddy glanced at her attorney then mine.
“I’m fine if they listen,” I told her, threading my hands together on the table. “Let’s be clear, Maddy. The only thing you gain by them leaving the room is no witnesses to you verbally or emotionally assaulting me. You won’t be hitting me again, because I will return the favor. I’m done being your punching bag. You’ve told me plenty of times you could have gotten rid of me or given me up for adoption, so let’s not pretend, you and I, that I was ever anything more than a means to an end.”
“Those words were said in anger…”
“Sure they were. That might even be true the first time you said it. I mean, the first time I recall it, I was seven. So maybe you were pissed. Maybe even the second time. But that’s just an excuse to try and pass off your shoddy fourth-hand parenting skills. I suppose if I were a married man myself, I might have gotten your attention.”
She glared at me. “That’s uncalled for.”
“But is it?” I tilted my head. “I don’t think so.”
“You always do this. You start twisting everything,” she snarled. “I think you’re a spoiled child.”
“And I think you’re a manipulative bitch.” I spread my hands. “Are we done here then?” This really was a pointless exercise. “You know what? Actually, I do have one question. My original one. Why?”
“Why what?” She almost sounded tired.
“Why keep me? You never wanted me. I was always a burden. One you were all too swift to abandon at every opportunity and to blame when things didn’t go your way. So why keep me?”
“Because you’re mine,” she said without an ounce of emotion. “You’ll always be my daughter. My blood. My legacy.”
I might vomit.
“Well, good to know that those things don’t mean much to you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Frankie. What do you want from me? Your father left me for another woman. I did the absolute best I could. Am I a perfect mother? No. Are you the perfect child? Of course not. No one is. But you’ve been angry with me for the last year. Angry that I’m trying to move on with my life and—”
“Don’t,” I said holding up a hand. “Don’t even start that shit. You started your affair with Eddie out of sight and out of mind of me. You didn’t want me to know. You slunk around the shadows with your dirty little secret and disappeared on so-called business trips, all the while you were trying to sabotage another woman’s marriage. You know what, maybe my sperm donor did leave you, but that doesn’t give you carte blanche to go after other men who are already taken. I know it takes two to tango, but it takes a special kind of greedy bitch to repeat that pattern.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” She almost looked upset. Almost.
“Well, I suppose you already forgot about Coop’s dad. Out of sight. Out of mind.”
She flinched.
There it was.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look,” I said, standing. My stomach hurt. My eyes burned. I was alternating between hot and cold. I wasn’t sure if it was a panic attack, fury, or disgust. Maybe all