Chapter 202
Chapter 202:
Franklin didn’t notice—or didn’t care.
“Mirabelle’s always been a bit… private,” he continued, louder. “Not great with people, no close mates, and Rhys… well, that didn’t work out. But now? She’s finally found her match. Warms my heart. I know you’ll treat her right p>
I pressed closer to Ashton and hooked my arm through his. “Ignore him. Let’s go inside p>
We turned, taking maybe three steps before Franklin started scurrying after us.
“Mirabelle! I went to all this effort to find you. Can’t you spare ten minutes? Just a cup of coffee. It’s windy out, don’t be so cold p>
I grabbed Ashton’s hand and picked up the pace.
Then Franklin barked behind us, “I’m still your father. You can’t dodge me forever. Maybe one day I’ll visit your studio p>
Ashton hesitated. His steps slowed.
I tugged Ashton forward. “Don’t let him get into your head. I don’t care if he shows up at the studio; I’ll just throw him out myself p>
Franklin noticed Ashton’s hesitation and seized the opportunity.
“You’re a public figure,” he said loudly. “And Mirabelle’s been getting a lot of buzz online. If people find out how you treat family… it won’t look good p>
Ashton stopped and turned. “Come in p>
“No!” I snapped, jabbing my fingers into his arm. “He’s not setting foot in the house. The second you let him through that door, he’ll glue himself to the floor p>
Ashton patted my hand. “I’ve got it under control. He’s not getting a thing p>
“Then why let him in p>
“I’ve got something in mind p>
“Care to share p>
𝖂𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖋𝗈𝗋
Franklin covered the distance between us in a few quick strides. He chuckled. “Knew you’d understand, Ashton. Knew you’d be reasonable p>
He shoved past me and hurried through the doorway before one of us could change our minds.
Once inside, I didn’t even bother to sit. I glared at him. “Cut the crap. Why are you really here p>
He gave the room a once-over—artwork, chandeliers, hand-carved trim. His pupils widened.
He masked it well, but I’d lived with him long enough to know exactly what was running through his head—how much of this can I get?
He set down two gaudy red-and-gold gift boxes on the side table with a flourish. “These bottles are from a centuries-old vineyard in France,” he announced. “Aged just right. And these beans—hand-roasted, old family recipe. I thought you two might enjoy them p>
Ashton motioned to the low sofa by the wall. “Sit there p>