Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
DYLAN POV
“Fuck. Get your shit together.”
As I look at myself in my office mirror, adjusting my sleeves, my fingers run up against my cufflink and I pause. I trace the lion emblem, and my nerves start to settle down.
I’m Dylan Hill, for god’s sake. This night belongs to me.
I used to look forward to this. Playing happy host to our members as they indulge in the hedonistic pleasures afforded to them in the confines of my club.
However, this year, my mind is far away.
My phone buzzes on my desk.
I rush over.
Maybe it’s him.
No such luck. Instead, a text from my daughter gives me the information I’ve been dreading.
Nate’s not coming tonight. Sorry, I did my best.
“Fuck.” I know Abigail has been trying her ass off to get her brother in touch with me. But that’s not working either.
Nothing is working.
I navigate to his contact info and call him for the umpteenth time this week. If only I had tried this hard before.
I get that nasty ringing as I wait for him to pick up. Pray that he does.
“Come on, come on, come on…”
“You’ve reached the mailbox of -“
I hang up and curse myself, my fist clenching around my phone so tight it may snap in half. I put the damn thing on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and slide it into my pocket.
There’s a knock on the door.
A male voice sounds from outside. “Ed? You in there?”
Oh, good, Solomon is here.
“Come in.” I try to remain on an even keel despite my uneasy mental state.
My best friend throws the door open and beams at me. The shine of his crow’s-nested baldhead a close second to his white veneers. “There’s the man of the hour.”
I manage a poor impression of a smile.
My eyes land on the objects in his hand.
He holds one out to me. “I took the liberty of picking out yours.”
I take it. “What’s this supposed to be?” I turn the eye mask this way and that to try and figure it out.
The handcrafted piece of art is decorated with feathers made of wood that starts red and transitions to yellow until they’re something resembling flames.
“Why, a phoenix, of course!”
“Ah, I see that now.” The craftsmanship is divine. “I didn’t know Hans Christian Andersen wrote about a phoenix.”
The theme of tonight’s masquerade is Andersen’s fairytales.
“Well, it seems he did. About lots of birds, actually.” His grin is nothing short of taunting. “I thought it was fitting for you.”
“Now, why would you think that?”
“Because I think you’re entering a new era, Dylan.”
I sigh. “One can hope, my friend. One can hope. Now, what’s yours?”
He holds a green, bumpy thing up to his eyes and grins. “A goblin!”
“That fits your personality to a T.”
“Hey! I resent that.”
I smack my friend on the arm with the back of my hand. “Just giving you a hard time.”
This guy is the least goblin-like man in the Hill Club.
Not quite an achievement since money has a way of bringing out the worst in some people.
“Although I don’t know how you expect to bed someone wearing something like that.”
Sol laughs and goes up to the full-length mirror in the corner. “I know you have a history of bedding women every masquerade, or close to it. I mean, in thirty-one years, you might have missed out once or twice, but is that all tonight is for you? A chance for a conquest?” He pulls the mask on, obscuring the top half of his face.
“Not all.”
Thirty-one fucking years. God, when will I grow up? I’m a year away from fifty and still wondering who to add to my roster next. I should have settled down years ago now. Yet, here I am, talking about girls like I’m some fucking horny frat boy.
Pathetic.
I know I’m not perfect. I’ve never had the emotional availability to make something work. I accepted that shortcoming for a long time.
Now, I hate myself for it. After all, look at my relationship with my firstborn.
Truth is life is empty.
The lack of personal connections has now started to take its toll on me, and my loneliness weighs so much that I almost suffocate sometimes.
I dream of finding someone to share this life with.
In these past few months, I learned that my successes are empty when there is no one there to cheer me on, and my failures cut even deeper without someone there to hold my hand. To let me know everything is going to be alright.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone to keep your bed warm tonight.” He chuckles. Then, his eyes grow wide beneath the mask. “As long as it’s not-“
“Bridget. I know. You’ve told me every year since she turned eighteen.” As if I’d ever consider bedding his daughter.
As my finger traces the wooden grooves on my disguise for the night, I struggle to keep down a sigh. “I don’t know, Sol, my mind is too full tonight. I’m not sure I’ll stay longer than an hour.”
Solomon puts his hands on his hips and looks me up and down. “Come on. Let’s see how you feel when you put that thing on.” He steps to the side of the mirror and gestures with his hands for me to come forward.
I roll my eyes but do as he asks. Whatever will get him off my case. “A phoenix…” I grumble as I slide the masterpiece on.
“Rising from the ashes…” His voice has far too much gravitas.
I sigh. “I don’t know if there’s much rising to be done right now, my friend.”
He lays a hand on my shoulder and our eyes meet in the mirror. “Still haven’t heard from Nate?”
“He’s ignoring my calls.”
Solomon sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised. After all, it’s been, what, three years since you guys talked?”
I wince. “Yep. Three years. Since he went to California.”
My friend tightens his grip on my arm. “This isn’t all your fault, Dylan. He’s a grown man too. I know it’s hard to believe, since he’s your son, but he is just as responsible for his actions as you are for yours.”
“You’re being…too nice.” I wouldn’t have said that a year ago. I’m stubborn and proud.
People apologize to me, not the other way around.
But this is my son, and I miss him. God, I’m growing soft in my age. Or maybe growing up.
“It’s my fault he left and my fault he stayed away all this time.”
“Fault?! No, he knows it’s up to him to take up the tradition of running Hill. Has since he was a boy. For him to act like that was brand new information is preposterous.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But my ultimatum didn’t help matters either, did it? It was low of me to tell him if he turned his back on the Club, he wouldn’t get his inheritance once the time comes.”
And if there was any doubt, his response proved he is my son. Because after I spelled it out for him, Nate took the route of, “You can’t fire me. I quit!” and left the city without a word.
