Free Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) by Claudia Burgoa Page A

position of CEO would open up for me. Is he for fucking real? Consummate the marriage? Is this the middle ages?
    “I already own a business, Father. But thank you for the offer,” I had responded with a firm voice and then retired to my room.
    Father didn't let the subject, or myself go. No. He followed me all the way to my old room. “We’re not done with this conversation, Tristan. You've reached the end of the line.” His voice could be heard through the entire house. My father squeezed my arm and tried to spin me around the way he used to when I was younger. I did turn, but pushed him away from my body. His raging eyes darkened a few shades, and his face turned red. “What the fuck was that, Tristan? I'm your father, I deserve respect.”
    “Don't you dare to touch me,” I said, controlling my breathing, and my rage. “I won't allow you to ever hit me again. We have established that already. This is the last time I say it. I'm not coming back. No, I won't take over your company, and there won't be a Cooperson-Hudson wedding.” It remained on the tip of my tongue that I had a man in my life. That information would push him over the edge and I didn't know what he'd do. Having not heard from Matthew since I left Seattle, I wasn’t exactly sure that was the case anyway.
    If it wasn’t for the amount of whiskey I drank last night, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Earlier today, Mother woke me up. She believed we were driving to the Hamptons together—as a family. I refused.
    “You're pushing this too far, Tristan,” she had said with a cold voice. “Charles isn't happy with you, Son. He needs you.”
    Where had he been all the times I needed him? I remained silent as her words drilled inside my pounding head.
    “Your great-grandfather built Cooperson Corporation from the ground up with the little money he had in his pocket when he arrived from England.” She hit me with the same old story about our legacy. “It would be an honor to take over. You’re wasting the opportunity of a lifetime.” Those were the words I’d heard so many times from my parents over the years.
    “I don't want it. Keep your opportunities. I'm happier living in California.”
    “Are you still gay?” My mother crossed her arms and I was taken aback with her question. It was the first time she’d acknowledged my sexual preference, even when she used the wrong term. “We expected the teenage phase would be gone by now. You're thirty. Time to grow up, Tristan.”
    I couldn't help myself and released a big laugh. As if I could change my sexual orientation with time. Gay isn't the term, but I didn’t explain to her that she's wrong about it either. Were they seriously expecting that “the phase” would disappear with time? No amount of money or therapies changed who I am. Those “treatments” only confused the hell out of me. I lost friends and myself during that period. If I’m not careful, I might even lose the closest friend I’ve had in years, and my lover. But I didn’t tell her any of that. I remained silent for a few breaths.
    “I'm driving my own car, Mother,” I said, composing myself. “As you pointed out, I'm a grown man that can make his own decisions. See you there.”
    “Fine.” She smoothed her skirt. “Take your own car, but remember to behave during the party. That includes being social, and interacting with Victoria—your future wife.”
    I flinch at the memory of that fucking conversation. I'm older, I remind myself while massaging my temples. They can't beat the hell out of me the way they used to. No. They can’t touch me anymore. Thank. Fuck. So, why do I still let them?
    Between the hangover, the sun’s reflection, and the noise, I don’t notice when Victoria approaches me. The whiff of her sweet floral perfume overwhelms my senses. As I scrunch my nose, she tosses her long, shiny hair over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. The attempt at a seductive pose does nothing to excite anything