I closed my eyes and looked at the ceiling. I tried counting to ten. When I opened my eyes, Tessa was watching me with worry on that expressive face of hers.

“Father, you can see whoever you want, but surely since you barely finalized the last divorce, why get married again? There’s no need.”

“There’s every need. I love Trinity.”

I ground my teeth together. “How old is she?”

“Age is just a number, Ambrose.”

“How. Old?”

“She’s about to turn twenty. An adult.”

A teenager, and my father was in his sixties. My fingers gripped the phone. “She’s a teenager. Don’t do this. Don’t get married again.”

“It’s my life and my decision. You’ve taken all the other ones away from me.”

“Fine.” Tiredness washed over me. I needed to contact the lawyers and get a prenup arranged.

“Good. So save the date. The wedding will be mid-winter.”

“I won’t be able to make the wedding, Father.” He started making blustering sounds. “I need to go now.” And call someone to rescue me and Tessa. “Goodbye.” I ended the call and drew in some deep breaths.

A small touch on my arm had me lifting my head.

“I’m sorry. I always envied people who still had their parents, but something’s telling me not to in this case.”

“My father wanted to invite me to his wedding—his sixth—to a nineteen-year-old woman called Trinity.”

Tessa winced. “Isn’t he in his sixties?”

“Yes. But they’re in love.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe it’s the real deal?”

I scoffed. “Just like the last five times. Love is a concept developed to excuse people for doing stupid things.”

“Wow, you’re a true romantic.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Suddenly I was very interested to hear her answer. My fingers curled around the edge of the crate.

“No. But I love lots of people in my life. Love is real.”

I wouldn’t know. “I’m talking about romantic love. It’s just an excuse to spend a lot of money on a wedding, then even more on a divorce.”

She waved a hand in front of her face.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to see through all the cynicism.”

I sighed. “Sorry, talking with my father always sets me on edge. Now, let’s call for some help.” I looked at my phone and cursed.

“What?” She pressed against me, and I tried not to focus on the fact that I could feel her soft breast against my arm. Or how soft and smooth the skin of her thighs had felt when I’d caught her when she’d tumbled.

She’s an employee. I repeated it a few times in my head to remind myself. My father had quite a few affairs with staff. I’d had to oversee several sexual harassment payouts.