Driven Hard by Fawkes Tasha

Author:Fawkes, Tasha [Fawkes, Tasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Safrira Press LLC
Published: 2023-02-05T18:30:00+00:00

Later that evening, I drove to my parent’s estate in Calabasas for dinner. I haven’t seen my parents in about a week. Yet as I entered the house and caught the glimpse of my father’s face as he looked at me, his irritation with me obvious. He sat in his armchair in the living room, a glass of bourbon in his hand. My mother sat nearby and gave me a look as I came in. A warning look. My mom and I had an almost invisible form of communication. A simple widening of the eyes, the lifting of an eyebrow, a twitch of the chin was all it took to make me understand my father was upset about something.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad,” I said as I walked into the living room. I tried to stall the inevitable. “Something smells good in here.”

Mom smiled, grasping at the distraction. “I picked up barbecue from Smokey Joe’s—”

My father’s bellow cut her off.

“Who the hell is this Ray guy you’ve been hanging out with?”

I stared at him, truly stunned. How the hell had he found out about it? I glanced quickly at Mom, who winced and glanced down at her hands, her fingers interlaced in her lap. Then I knew. She was constantly scrolling through my social media pages. He must’ve seen. I quickly tried to hide my dismay and offered a shrug, doing my best to keep the smile on my face.

“He’s just a friend who’s been helping me out on a few jobs—”

Dad stood, his face red, the veins in his neck throbbing as he stared at me. I’d rarely seen him so angry. I froze and my heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Layne!”

I glanced at Mom again, a super quick glance, and she gave me a brief, and barely discernible shake of her head, encouraging me not to do or say anything that would make anything worse. But really, how much worse could get? My father knew about Ray! I felt sick to my stomach. He took a step closer, pulling his own phone from his pocket, tapping the screen twice before turning the screen toward me.

“Really?” He growled. “Really, you’re just friends?”

I swallowed thickly and glanced at the image on his phone, one that I had taken of Ray and me during our weekend getaway on Catalina Island. It was the selfie I had taken, my head on Ray’s shoulder, looking up at him, my lips a fraction of an inch away from his neck.

“Cut the bullshit, Layne,” he growled. “Spending weekend getaways with a man old enough to be your father is not a job!” He shook his head, his mouth turned into a frown of disgust. “I’ve read the comments, so again, don’t bother lying anymore.”

Anger replaced my fear. “Fine then, I won’t.” I tried to sound unconcerned, but my voice cracked and I inwardly cringed. What the hell was I going to do now? My thoughts raced.

“If this is

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