Chapter 141
Chapter 141:
“Why?” Aspen asked, sounding bored. “It’s a snooze fest p>
“Because Jocelyn will be there. The Collins family always attends,” Kieran said, his eyes tight. “I need to see her. I need to remind her who she belongs to p>
“She belongs to Gaston now, Kieran p>
“No,” he hissed. “She is just renting space in his life. She belongs to me p>
Back on the yacht, Gaston’s phone lit up with a video call.
“It’s my father,” he warned Jocelyn. He accepted and set it on speaker.
𝖣𝗼ո’t 𝗺іѕ𝗌 𝗇𝖾w r𝖾𝗹𝘦𝖺𝗌е𝗌 𝗈n
“Gaston! My boy!” Elbert Collins’ face filled the screen. He was settled in his study, a cigar between his fingers. “Excellent photos! The dip! The passion! The investors are weeping with joy p>
“Hello, Dad,” Gaston said.
“Jocelyn! Are you there?” Elbert boomed.
“Hi, Elbert.” She leaned into the frame.
“You look beautiful, my dear. Now, listen to me. The stock is up. The public loves you. There is only one thing left to do.” He leaned toward the camera with theatrical gravity. “Make me a grandson. This yacht has excellent feng shui for conception p>
Jocelyn inhaled at precisely the wrong moment. She started coughing violently, reaching for her water glass.
Gaston’s eyes went wide. He reached for the phone.
“The signal is very bad, Dad. Very bad. Breaking up,” he announced loudly.
“What? I can hear you fin p>
He tapped the End Call button.
Silence settled back over the deck. Jocelyn drank her water, her face a deep and impressive shade of red.
“He is… direct,” she wheezed.
“He is a menace,” Gaston corrected. “Ignore him p>
“A grandson,” Jocelyn said, shaking her head slowly. “Does he know? About… you know p>
“About what?” Gaston asked, watching her carefully.
“That you play for the other team,” she whispered.
Gaston looked at her steadily. The lie sat between them like a stone — heavy, immovable, and increasingly unbearable. He wanted to shatter it. He wanted to drag her across the table and demonstrate, beyond any possible ambiguity, exactly which team he played for.
“He knows I do what is necessary for the family,” Gaston said instead.
He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m going to check the navigation p>
He walked away before he did something reckless.
Like telling her the truth.
Evening fell over the Atlantic like a velvet curtain. The yacht had anchored in a quiet cove off the tip of Long Island, and the water was black and still, holding the moon’s reflection on its surface like a mirror.
Jocelyn walked down the corridor toward her cabin. She was exhausted — the acting, the sun, the day’s emotional weight pressing down on her all at once.
She reached her door and swiped the key card.
The light blinked red.
She tried again. Red.
“Come on,” she muttered. She tried the handle. Locked tight.
She knocked on Gaston’s door.
He opened it wearing a fresh white shirt and dark trousers, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Problem p>
“My door is locked. The key isn’t working p>