For the millionth time, I silently swore that the minute I untangled myself from the messy business with my father, I would throw him out of my life and lock the door behind him for good measure. I didn’t want to depend on anyone for my happiness. But my father had this ability to pull at strings and use his power and connection to hurt people who didn’t see eye-to-eye with him.

Potential sacrifice, the words echoed in my head. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Doable.” I nodded. Trent’s PA, Rina, had emailed me earlier that morning notifying me that I’d spend the majority of Tuesday with Luna and Camila. We were going to go to a local zoo and would catch lunch with Trent at The Vine. The idea of spending time with the girls—both of whom I liked—was nothing short of thrilling. But coming face-to-face with Trent after humping him, as he’d bluntly put it, was disconcerting.

Good news was, I was sure I’d have access to his office at some point tomorrow. “I want my visiting limitations dropped. I want to see Theo on Saturdays and every other Wednesday, and I want to spend my holidays with him.” My voice held a bleeding edge. Jordan waved a hand, his head already buried in a contract he’d retrieved from the printer by his desk. “That’s fine. Tell Max to sort it out.” Max was my father’s PA. My mother had demanded Jordan stop hiring women as assistants in the hopes it would get him to stop cheating with his employees. Yeah. Fat chance, judging from his erratic schedule and sparse visitations to our house.

I made my way outside my father’s office, his voice halting me in place.

“And Edie?” I turned around slowly, examining him behind his titanium desk. He looked so smug. Like he owned the world. Like he was immortal. Fool.

“Just a friendly reminder as your father, your employer, and the man who holds your future in his hands—don’t double cross me. Trent Rexroth is a smart kid, but he is nothing compared to me.”

I closed the door on him, keeping my twitching mouth from opening and spitting out the truth Father never wanted to hear: Trent Rexroth was more than smart. He was devilishly brilliant. But that wasn’t going to help him in this battle because I made him weak.

Weak where it mattered.

Weak where he left me aching.

And in his weakness, I’d find power.

And use it.

Not because I was vengeful or angry, but because I wanted to save Theo and my mom.

Not because I was a bad person, but because I needed to be good to the ones who depended on me.

I stole his iPad.

The ease with which I did it was both exhilarating and baffling, considering he’d already caught me thieving.

I’m sure he was surprised I joined them without a fight—I cornered Camila in the break room and casually told her I’d been invited by Mr. Rexroth and would be tagging along, which wasn’t a complete lie—but true to his detached reputation, Trent had acted like I was his daughter’s annoying friend. In other words: he completely ignored me.

All throughout lunch, he was busy lavishing Luna with attention, cutting her food, talking to her about their plans for the weekend. He was wearing sharp, navy slacks and a crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to elbow-length. The snaking veins and strong muscles on his forearms were meant to slam a girl against a wall and make her praise the Lord like a born-again Christian. I wasn’t a particularly sexual person. So it definitely caught me off guard when I had to excuse myself and go to the restroom, bracing against the sink in front of the mirror and shaking my head. I tried to make the idea of him crashing me against one of the cubicles, yanking my skirt and underwear down and eating me out from behind, dissolve before my body caught up with my dirty thoughts. I even went as far as convincing myself that wanting to have sex with Trent Rexroth was just a quiet protest against my father. Those forearms, though. I knew they’d haunt me at night, cut me open the next time my toes curled in pleasure. Imagining his strong arms grasping me would serve as a match to ignite the dormant desire sitting in the pit of my stomach. I washed my face with ice-cold water. F-o-c-u-s.

When I got back to the table, Luna pointed at Trent’s cell phone before gesturing with her hands to demonstrate something bigger.

“You want the iPad,” he said. I hated the way he spoke to her. Like he cared—like he truly cared—even though I knew he was just another Jordan. Maybe I was doing him a favor by getting him kicked out of FHH. He obviously needed the perspective and time to bond with his daughter.